The Sinner and the Saint
by namistai
Summary: [DracoHermione, paced, AU] 7th year, Draco and Hermione are Head Boy and Girl. Why is growing up and falling in love so hard on the knees? 71805: AU since reading HBP, possibly considering major revision. Comment if you want the story to be in line with H
1. Chapter 1: And So It Begins

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR. The song "Perfect" is from Simple Plan.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 1: And so it begins....  
  
Hermione Granger stepped onto platform nine and three-quarters fifteen minutes before the Hogwarts Express was about to leave. She smiled inwardly, a little sadly, thinking that this was going to be her last year stepping onto the platform to leave. Although she was excited to start school as the Head Girl, part of her was thinking about after school. The war between Voldemort's supporters and those that opposed him had already begun, despite whatever the Ministry of Magic said. The thought made her grimace. How could they be so blind? She shook her head. She promised herself that she was going to enjoy the last year at school.  
  
She was still the know-it-all bookworm, the clever one in the Golden Trio. She might not be bucktoothed anymore and although she could now tame her bushy hair into semblance of curls, she knew that she was only moderately pretty. Granted, she did have a nice figure but it was difficult to see under school robes. Granted, she was fairly popular with three of the houses. Granted, Viktor Krum's interest in her had made other boys take a second look at her, but she knew that she intimidated them. And even if she didn't, Harry and Ron definitely did. She told herself that it was okey. She didn't want to be a silly twit that burst into embarassed giggling whenever a boy talked to her like fellow Gryffindors Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. She definitely did not want to be seen as some sort of sexual predator the way Slytherin Pansy Parkinson was. Either way, she didn't have time for romance. She had friends, her schoolwork and now, responsabilities as the Head Girl.  
  
"Hermione!" two voices called out from behind her. She turned around to see Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny with their bags. Harry Potter was not far behind, being escorted by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Her face lit up with a huge smile. She had missed her two bestfriends over the summer. She was also pretty close to Ginny Weasley, despite the age difference because it was nice to have someone for girltalk that wasn't going to squeal all the time and understood her complaints about Harry and Ron.  
  
"Hey! How was the end of the summer?" Hermione asked as they started to board the train, although they had been keeping in touch through owl post.  
  
"Not too bad. Mostly helping out Fred and George in their shop out in Hogsmeade. They're thinking about a place of Diagon Alley, once they have enough money," Ron said.  
  
"Oh wow. That would be great for the business," Hermione commented.  
  
"Have you heard the latest? Malfoy's band is going to be putting out a record," Ginny said with a twinkle in her eyes.  
  
"Great. As if he wasn't a big enough git," Harry said with a grimace, as they continued to walk down the train cars, trying to find an empty compartment for the four of them.  
  
Hermione shrugged. She didn't give a rat's ass what Malfoy did. Although she had to admit, that his band made some decent music. She gave credit where credit was due. That didn't change the fact that Malfoy was still a stuck-up, idiotic, cruel prat. And hot, her mind added. Hermione wanted to scowl at that thought. She supposed that Malfoy had a certain appeal. He had stopped slicking back his hair at some point in the third year, letting it hang around his face, his bangs sometimes falling across his gray eyes. He had the annoying habit of pushing it back with his hand.  
  
The main thing was that Malfoy exuded sexual appeal. Both he and Harry were considered the two hottest guys at school. Whereas Harry had the good boy appeal, with his shy smile and his serious demeanour, he was the kind of boy you brought home to meet the parents. Malfoy, on the other hand, was the kind of boy that your parents warned you against. The kind of boy, despite the warnings, you snuck out of your house to see. Malfoy had the bad boy appeal in spades. And he knew it. And he used it. He was like a dirty little secret, a forbidden thrill. And if rumors were true, he was the dirty secret of a quite a number of witches, regardless of house.  
  
And despite everything, Hermione had to admit albeit grudgingly that he had stage presence. When his band played, you had to watch. You could not tear your eyes away from them. He could command attention. They put on a great show. Like she said before, she gave credit where credit was due.  
  
Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione finally found an empty compartment. They settled in and continued to chat among themselves.  
  
"Congratulations again Hermione, on making Head Girl," Ron said, his ears turning a slight shade of pink.  
  
"Thanks," Hermione said a little proudly. She had worked hard for it and was grateful that others thought that she was up to par for the job.  
  
"I wonder who the Head Boy is," Ginny wondered out loud.  
  
Harry and Ron shrugged and started to strategize for the Quidditch matches. Harry had been made captain of the team ever since Angelina Johnson graduated, since he was technically the only one that had the most experience and survived the brutal training schedule of Oliver Wood. Wood's training sessions had become somewhat legendary although both Angelina and Harry drove their teams to exhaustion in most practices. Ron's skills as a Keeper had improved greatly since that last game in the fifth year. Gryffindors still chanted "Weasley is our King" at every Gryffindor game, although it was the loudest against Slytherin, much to the Slytherins' anger.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll have to find out," Hermione said to Ginny, as she rose to leave. "I'll leave my stuff here and just pop into the Head Boy and Girl Compartment to become acquainted and then go meet the new prefects."  
  
Ginny smiled brightly and nodded her head, before becoming equally immersed in the conversation between Harry and Ron. As the back-up Seeker, Ginny was very keen on Quidditch and often helped the team strategize. More importantly, even though she didn't play most of the games, she had the opportunity to watch the other teams in action and was able to shout out advice and help prepare an effective defense.  
  
Hermione made her way down the compartments, finally coming to an especially ornate compartment door that was right next to the prefect compartment. She heard voices coming from the prefect compartment and knew that in a little while she would be introducing herself to them.  
  
The door to the Head Boy and Head Girl compartment slid open and she stepped inside. And stared in disbelief at Draco Malfoy.  
  
--------------------- ----------------- -------------------------  
  
Draco Malfoy made it to the Head Boy and Head Girl compartment before Crabbe and Goyle had a chance to talk to him. He didn't feel in the mood to deal with them. He had had another fight with his mother before climbing on the train. He didn't feel like dealing with anyone at the moment. His mother had raised a ruckus because he had gone ahead and gotten his ears pierced, calling it a disgusting Muggle practice. She definitely had not appreciated when he pointed out that pierced ears were a tradition that wizards had engaged in since the time of the Druids. He supposed that he much rather fight with his mother than Lucius. But then again, Lucius was locked up in Azkhaban for being a Death Eater, staining the Malfoy name.  
  
He just didn't want to deal with his family anymore. Part of him had changed since the summer before sixth year, when he began to practice the piano in earnest. It made the manor seem less empty. He could escape that way. At this point, Draco just didn't want to think anymore. About anything. About who was right or wrong. He knew he didn't want to be a Death Eater. He wasn't about to die for someone else's fucking crusade. At the beginning, he had thought it would be great sport, getting rid of the less deserving, the weak, the tainted. But then, he saw what the Dark Lord really did to his supporters. He wasn't gonna serve under anyone, to be discarded at will. That didn't mean that he didn't think that purebloods weren't inherently superior. He just wasn't ready to die to fucking prove it. Not that he was about to share this with anyone, especially with the impending war about to begin. He was going to do the smart thing and simply not take sides. He wanted to survive, regardless of who won or what the new world order would be.  
  
Meanwhile, he'd continue to play music. When he played music, he could be anyone he wanted. Including someone more famous that the goddamn annoying Harry Pothead.  
  
Draco picked up the acoustic guitar and began to strum some bars. He had learned to play the acoustic guitar over this summer. Although he was still extremely profficient at the piano, and it was his favorite instrument, the guitar had the advantages of being more portable. That, and girls loved a guy with a guitar.  
  
He knew girls liked him. From his platinum blond hair to his cold gray eyes. He knew that Quidditch had given his long lean frame sinewy strength and luster to his reputation. He was, afterall, the Slytherin Seeker. Still, he had to compete against Potter for the position of most desirable guy at Hogwarts.  
  
He narrowed his eyes at the thought. Potter had plagued his life ever since he had been born. Some of his earliest memories were of Lucius droning on and on about The Boy That Lived. It rattled Lucius that somehow, someone had been able to best the Dark Lord. And it wasn't a Malfoy.  
  
It got progressively worst over the years, he reflected. Not only did he have to live up to the expectations of being a Malfoy but also he had to beat out Potter. On both accounts, he disappointed his father. He wasn't even able to outsmart or outmaneuver fucking Potter. Not even at bloody Quidditch, despite his talent. He hated to admit it but Potter has bloody unbeatable as a Seeker. Especially after he got his Firebolt.  
  
As for being the best, which is what a Malfoy is supposed to be, he was bested by a Muggle-born witch. Draco grimaced at that. It didn't matter that he came in second place. He still wasn't first. Bloody Hermione Granger, that mudblood. He just couldn't accept that she beat him in almost every subject, except Potions.  
  
Of course, no matter how he berated himself, Lucius was even worst. Draco was just a constant source of disappointment. He hated to think what his father would think about his music. Not that it mattered at this point. He didn't need his father's approval for anything. He didn't want it.  
  
He just couldn't be perfect. He turned that thought around in his head and finally wrote it down on a piece of parchment. Slowly, an idea for a song started to form in his mind. He strummed a few more bars, his long fingers writing the melody, words coming unbidden to his head.  
  
_Hey Dad look at me  
Think back and talk to me  
Did I grow up according  
To plan?  
Do you think I'm wasting  
My time doing things I  
Wanna do?  
But it hurts when you  
Disapprove all along_  
  
_And now I try hard to make it  
I just want to make you proud  
I'm never gonna be good  
Enough for you  
I can't pretend that  
I'm alright  
And you can't change me_  
  
_'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be Perfect  
Now it's just too late  
And we can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be Perfect_  
  
Draco was absorbed in making music that he didn't hear the compartment door slide. He only looked up when he became aware that someone was there. His eyes locked with the brown eyes, wide with shock, of Hermione Granger. 


	2. Chapter 2: The Head Boy and Girl

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

  
  
Chapter 2: The Head Boy and Girl   
  
For a few seconds, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger just stared at each other, realization dawning on both of them. Draco was the first to react. Without letting his guitar drop, he used his right hand to collect the piece of parchment he had been scribbling notes and lyrics on and put it into the right pocket of his robe. A sardonic smile twisted on his lips. If he had thought about it, he would have known Granger would be the Head Girl. Dumbledore positively doted on the Golden Trio and the teachers tended to adore her. Pothead and Weasel barely passed his classes. She was obviously the brains behind their operation.  
  
"Are you gonna just stand there and gape at me?" he said bitingly with his trademark smirk, one that made most girls heart go pitterpatter at the sight of. "Of course, I can understand the thrill of a fan meeting their idol."  
  
She closed her mouth with a snap, her eyes flashing and her lips thinning out into a murderous line. "Sod off, Malfoy. I'm not part of your fanclub," she gritted out.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow elegantly. It didn't matter if she was or wasn't. He was merely trying to get a rise out of her and suceeding admirably. It really was too much too easy taunt her, especially since Potter and Weasley weren't there to threaten him with physical violence. Not that it matter, he could take either of them down any time, any day. It was just a little more difficult when both of them were involved.  
  
"I just wanted to make the acquaintance of the Head Boy and go talk to the new Prefects about their duties," she said. "But since its you, I don't think I need to."  
  
Draco just looked at her behind the mask he had perfected over the years, his face one of superiority and mild boredom. Not that he minded her words, although he felt a little upbraided that an insignificant Gryffindor didn't think it was worth her time to make his acquaintance. They were all goody two-shoes with obviously demented noble impulses that got them killed. Seriously, there wasn't a dram of common sense in the entire lot.  
  
"The compliment is returned," he drawled. "Let's meet the Prefects and get this over with. That way you can return to your little boyfriends."  
  
He clearly saw the anger in her eyes over his comment, continuing to look at her coolly. They really were a simpleminded lot, wearing their bleeding hearts on their sleeves. Emotions were your true enemy. Anyone could take them and twist them into weapons to use against you. He was working on his own spitfire temper. Up until the fifth year it had gotten into considerable trouble, including a number of unpleasant hexes. He simply wanted to avoid all of that. There were other ways of dealing with minor annoyances. And he would never consider the Golden Trio anything other than an annoyance anymore. It just wasn't worth his time or energy to directly engage them into some sort of fight.  
  
He started to study her for a few seconds that she fumed in silence before coming up with a retort. He could see how others could find her attractive enough. She had to be, otherwise Viktor Krum's eyesight had seriously been damaged by a Bludger at some point. Draco doubted that was the case. She no longer was bucktoothed and her face had become more slender, revealing the delicate bone structure. He had been taught to recognize such things, cultivate an artistic eye so to speak. Somehow, she had managed to tame that bushy mane of hers into curls that she had gathered into a ponytail. A few rogue tendrils escaped to frame her face. His mind idly thought about what kind of figure she had underneath all these robes, but he quickly dismissed such a train of thought. This was bloody Granger, a mudblood he despised after six long years of squabbles and insults.  
  
Granted, he had stopped saying mudblood outside the Slytherin common room. You simply didn't know who could be within earshot, ready to be outraged. Besides, he had learned that even if he didn't say it, it didn't change who or what they were. What was the use of stating the obvious? There were other ways to insult people. It had dawned upon him that a true insult was one that did not result to slurs.  
  
And simply, he just wanted to avoid bad publicity. It would just negatively impact his band.  
  
"Listen you pretentious git, unlike you, I don't thrive on insulting people," she said in a lofty tone, with her holier-than-thou attitude.  
  
"Really? If you haven't noticed Granger, I haven't been the one resorting to foul language," he shot back smoothly, picking unexistant lint from his robes in a careless manner. And smirked at her stunned expression as she realized that, in fact, he hadn't uttered a single profanity. Unlike her.  
  
Draco relished having the upper hand in this particular battle. As he had stated before, it much more satisfactory to win without having to result to slurs. It just proved how much wittier he really was.  
  
"I apologize for my language, if it offended you," she replied stiffly, her cheeks rosy, as if she had been forced to swallow her pride, eat crow and humble pie all at the same time. She probably had. Probably no one before had ever taken her to task. Uppitity Gryffindor that she was.  
  
"Apology accepted," Draco said with barely concealed glee, his eyes glittering. He knew it was just upsetting her more. Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, a tiny voice said that he shouldn't gloat. He shifted slightly in his seat, his black dragon skin pants glistening. "Shall we go talk to the Prefects, then?"  
  
She nodded her head, a stony look in her eyes and exited the compartment first.  
----- ------ ----- ------ 

What an insufferable prat! her mind screamed at her as soon as she stepped into the train hallway. Her heart was pounding in her ears, anger flowed through her veins turning her cheeks a rosy pink. Alot of it was directed at Malfoy, but a large chunk at herself. Seeing him inside the compartment had rattled her more badly than she wanted to admit. Part of her was mortified that she had just been reprimanded because of her language. By Malfoy no less! This year was really beginning horribly.  
  
It hadn't helped that she had gaped at him when she entered the compartment. Seeing him, sitting with that guitar, his face down and his hair in his eyes, absorbed in what he was doing was a little breathtaking. It was almost as if he were a different person. When he raised his head and his eyes met hers, her heart did do a quirky little beat. Of course, when he opened his mouth and his words reached her eyes, she dismissed her fanciful notions. He was still the obnoxious, despicable Draco Malfoy.  
  
She wrote it off as shock of discovering he was Head Boy. Although, in retrospect, she shouldn't have. After all, he was second behind her. Oh, she beat him out alright but that was because she was constantly studying, make certain she never lost her edge. Granted, he blew her clear out of the water in Potions but she attributed most of that to Snape's blatant favoritism of Slytherins.  
  
She turned around to see him exit the Head Boy and Head Girl compartment. His long and lean body, filling the space. Not that he was physically big or overtowering. He was just a head taller than her. She could fit perfectly under his chin, not that she thought about things like that, she thought in horror. It was simply his presence. He let it be known that he was there. Not wanting to make prolonged eye contact, she entered the Prefect compartment.  
  
Eight heads turned around to watch who had entered. She took a few steps forward, toward the center of the compartment. She heard the door slide open and close and knew that Malfoy was inside the room as well.  
  
"Hello to all of you. My name is Hermione Granger from House Gryffindor and I'm the Head Girl," she said brightly, smiling at them. They all nodded their heads at her. Some of the girls smiled back at her.  
  
There was a pause, a few seconds of awkward silence. Hermione realized that Malfoy meant for her to introduce him to the others. Bloody hell, she thought and sighed inwardly.  
  
"And this is Draco Malfoy from Slytherin House, the Head Boy," she managed to say in a rather neutral tone, casting a look back at Draco.  
  
He was leaning to one side of the car, casually. He acknowledged Hermione's words with a cocky smile and a quick nod of his head.  
  
She saw the Hufflepuff girl's eyes widen in excitement and she nearly rolled her eyes. Instead, she rolled her shoulders swiftly and started a quick round of introductions before launching into an explanation of Prefect duties.  
  
He didn't interrupt her while she talked. In fact, he didn't say anything the entire time. She knew he was watching her, felt it because she could feel the hair in the back of her neck prickling up. If she turned around, she knew she would see him still leaning against the side of the car, his eyes filled with scorn and boredom. She did her best to ignore it and him. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of unsettling her again. At that moment, she decided that ignoring him was the best and only possible way of surviving this year. Internally, she remembered that the Head Boy and Girl shared private quarters, separate rooms from the Houses and shared a common room. She wanted to groan outloud. The last thing she needed was a common room filled with Slytherins. Or Malfoy with one of his conquests.  
  
She almost made a face at that. Hermione did not want to think about a girl with Malfoy. Especially in those black dragon skin pants. She kicked herself mentally over that.  
  
"Now, if there are any questions, don't hesitate to contact either of us or one of the teachers," she heard herself. She was pretty sure that she had covered all of the basic and the duties. Because she was the responsible one. Good old dependable Hermione that knew everything, she thought fleetingly. 


	3. Chapter 3: Roll the Curtain

[Author's note: To those that reviewed, thanks for the interest.   
To chibimecools, thanks for the vote of confidence about my songwriting abilities. Nevertheless, you will probably see actual song lyrics or modified song lyrics]  
------ ------ -----  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 3: Roll the Curtain  
  
Hermione saw him exit the Prefect's compartment and waited a few seconds so that she wouldn't have to run into him in the hallway. She was mildly grateful that he hadn't contradicted her during her explanations to the Prefects, working to undermine her authority as Head Girl. On the other hand, he hadn't uttered a single word either, so she had been stuck doing the job all by herself. A light went off in her head saying that it also made her look like his lackey. Hermione scowled at that thought.  
  
What she needed was some sympathy. Without thinking twice about it, she headed to where Harry, Ron and Ginny were. She found them doing exactly the same thing they were doing when she left them, talking Quidditch strategy. Ginny, however, being more observant noticed her expression as she entered the compartment.  
  
"What's wrong Hermione?" Ginny asked, her voice peaked with concern.  
  
"Bloody Malfoy," she muttered angrily, sitting down with a flop next to her. Crookshanks purred and got up from Ginny's lap and curled up in Hermione's instead. Out of habit, she started to stroke his fur, the repetitive motion soothing her nerves. Crookshanks just purred louder.  
  
Both Harry and Ron stopped talking and turned to look at her.  
  
"He's the Head Boy," Ginny divined astutely, with a glimmer in her eyes, reading between the lines. She looked interestedly at Hermione, whose cheeks were flushed although she was quickly regaining her composure.  
  
"The ferret? Poor Hermione," Ron said consolingly, with a shake of his head, his red spiky hair waving a bit. Some point during their sixth year, Ron had taken to wearing his hair short and spiky. It suited him better than having a mop of red fair flapping around him. Ginny and Hermione both agreed that it was a much more flattering look.  
  
Harry's green eyes turned troubled and he scowled. He didn't like Malfoy one bit better despite his father being locked up in Azkhaban. It didn't matter that he no longer got into fist fights with him at school. Malfoy had been a royal pain in his arse throughout his entire school career, ready with a taunt or a jeer. More importantly, he still couldn't forgive Malfoy for his strutting during the fifth year when that horrible Umbridge woman had taken over.  
  
Oh sure now Malfoy was different. With his music and his band with adoring fans, Harry thought with a grimace. But a snake was a snake, even with the fangs weren't bared. Just because you saw a snake lying peacefully in the ground didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. And Malfoy was always plotting something. He didn't like the fact that Hermione would be in close quarters with that conniving wanker. He wondered what Dumbledore was thinking.  
  
"It must be a plan Dumbledore has. You know, keeping an eye out on that ruddy lot," Harry wondered aloud, frowning. That was the only logical explanation. Why else? Harry, Ron and Hermione were almost part of the Order. The war was brewing. Obviously, Dumbledore needed to keep his tabs on the Slytherins in Hogwarts. Particularly those whose had notorious Death Eater parents.  
  
"You could just hex him you know," Ron said helpfully, Harry's words not registering into his brain.  
  
Hermione immediately seized up on Harry's words and thier implications. "That must be it!" she exclaimed, a little relieved and excited. She probably was spying for Dumbledore. After all, everyone knew that the fruit never fell far from the tree. And Malfoy was as rotten as they came. Besides, she knew that it was only a matter time before the war between Voldemort's supporters and the Order erupted out into the open. It would become very useful to know what the ins and outs of the Slytherins were. This was a subtle way for Dumbledore to place one of his allies close enough to the Slytherins without suspecting. You could hardly blame the Head Master for chosing the two smartest students as Head Boy and Girl.  
  
"You'll let us know if that bastard gives you any trouble, won't you?" Harry voiced his concern.  
  
Hermione smiled fondly at both of her friends. They were so quick to defend her and step in with their fists swinging even if she was perfectly capable of handling it by herself. Sometimes, it was mildly annoying, did they really think she couldn't handle it on her own? But boys will be boys. They would feel the need to protect her. This is what Ginny must feel when dealing with her brothers, she thought wryly. "Of course," she said.  
  
"Not that I can't handle him on my own, mind you," she added quickly, noting the mischevious pleasure that both Ron's and Harry's eyes got at the thought to beating Malfoy to a bloody pulp. "I'll just take Ron's suggestion and hex him to hell and back," she said with a little mischevious glee of her own.  
  
Everyone had to laugh at that. Hermione's magical proficiencies were well known. There wasn't a spell she couldn't manage, including complex spells that gave most adult wizards and witches problems. Both Harry and Ron hated to think of what Hermione could be able to do if she actually put her mind to it. The thought of Draco Malfoy spitting up slugs while suffering from the Jellylegs hex combined with his face covered in sprouts sent both of the boys into peals of laughter. Harry almost wished that Malfoy would piss Hermione off to that extent. The pictures would be priceless.  
  
"But I don't want to antagonize him too much. I want to find out as much as I can for Dumbledore's sake. Anything useful to help out the cause," Hermione said, sobering up.  
  
Harry nodded his head. It would be hard to be able to report the coming and goings of the Slytherins if you simply didn't see them at all. "Just be careful, Hermione. He's a treacherous, untrustworthy Slytherin."  
  
"Don't worry Harry. I know who and what he is," Hermione said decisively.  
  
Meanwhile, Ginny held her tongue. She wondered that Dumbledore's only reason was to have the Order be able to spy on the Slytherins. Ultimately, Dumbledore's ideal was to have the world live in a peaceful order, wizards and muggles alike. Perhaps he was roadtesting his theory out, a miniexperiment so to speak. She also didn't think that Hermione had Malfoy all figured out like she claimed she did, but she wasn't going to say that outright. Unlike Hermione, she actually paid attention to Malfoy's music and there was more going on underneath the surface than one would expect. Not that she was going to tell Ron or Harry that she fancied Malfoy's music. She would never hear the end of it.  
  
Crookshanks just kept purring contentedly, his eyes blinking slowly.  
  
Draco sat in the Head Boy and Girl compartment, strumming his guitar and putting the finishing touches to the song he had started earlier. He couldn't wait until he had his own room as Head Boy to be able to practice in peace and quiet. The Slytherin common room was not good for practice, or for peace and quiet. He would just get mauled by some girl or another. He preferred to work in silence, and actually get work done. When he wanted to seduce a girl with his music, he would do that. Silly chits didn't know the difference.  
  
He sneered a little at the thought of sharing the Head Boy and Girl common room with the annoying holier-than-thou mudblood Granger. Although, he thought derisively, she probably wouldn't spend too much time there. She positively lived in the library and when she wasn't there, the Golden Trio was practically attached at the elbows. When they weren't having one of their public and rather dramatic squabbles. Really, embarassing the way the three of them would fight, like toddlers just out of their nappies. But he should expect as much from hot-headed Gryffindors.  
  
And they still remained together, united through thick and thin. That's probably where she was now, being consoled by her two friends and bemoaning how she would have to put up with the big bad Malfoy all year long, he smiled without mirth. It was going to be amusing upbraiding her all year. He had been nice during the Prefect meeting, not saying a word. But then again, he didn't want to overplay his hand quite so soon. It was easier when you lulled them into a false sense of security.  
  
Nevermind that at some point during the meeting, his mind had becomed lulled by the sound of her voice, following the rising and falling of the cadences of her words as she talked warmly and animatedly to the Prefects. Or that he could admire the reflection of sunlight on her brown hair, the sunlight shooting golden highlights into her curls. Or that he appreciated the graceful arch of her neck. He was a Malfoy, he had been taught to appreciate aesthetic qualities, even if they were from a dubious source.  
  
Regardless, she would nevertheless provide an interesting distraction from his music or Slytherin related activities. IF he ever saw her. The girl all but showered in the Library. There had been plenty of times when he had come across her in a deep recess or an obscure nook of the gargantuan Library, trying to find a quiet place where he could do his own work. If she even noticed that he had stumbled upon him, she would just glare at him and they would exchange a few choice words before one of them left. Of course, he made it a point of honor to make her leave. But more often than not, she was absorbed in her schoolwork that she didn't even notice that he had come across her. Occasionally, she would be using a book that he needed himself. Then it would become an entertaining tug of war. She really had no respect for him. Sometimes, she looked at him with downright loathing in her eyes.  
  
Pretentious little mudblood, he thought a little angrily. She thought she was his equal merely because she was so adept at magic. And to this date, she was one of the few people that had ever stood up to him in public. He had to grudgingly admire how she stood her ground. Too many people cowered in fear or followed his orders blindly. It was nice to have a challenge once in a while.  
  
Although he still had not forgotten how she had slapped him. Twice.  
  
No one had ever dared slap him before. Not even his own mother.  
  
But then again, his parents had always been able to do much better than that. 


	4. Chapter 4: The Head Boy and Girl Rooms

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 4: Their Rooms  
  
Draco's feet hit the landing with a thud, as he got out of the train. For a moment, he just took a minute to look at the bustle and commotion around him, as people greeted each other after the long summer. He realized that this truly was his last year, the last time he could escape to Hogwarts. There was a difference between knowing something was going to happen and realizing the extent and meaning of the event. His last year. He heard someone call his name.  
  
He turned around to see Blaise Zabini, his drummer hailing him. At the moment, Blaise was a guy, his caramel eyes regaling him coolly despite the smile on his face. "Zabini," he acknowled Blaise with a nod. Blaise was possibly the closest thing he had to a friend. With a cool intellect and a sardonic sense of humor, Blaise was almost as cunning and conniving as he was. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer' was always the thought that appeared whenever Malfoy thought of Blaise. Blaise had expressed several times his disinterest in becoming a Death Eater, mainly his displeasure of having to be somebody else's lackey. But Draco did not even presume to be privy to Zabini's feelings on the subject. When a guy would change from a guy to a girl every few weeks because he just bloody felt like it, it didn't take a genius to realize that his thought process was more complex than you could have initially thought.  
  
"If it isn't our illustrous leader. Congratulations on making Head Boy. About time a Slytherin had a position of power," Zabini said with mild amusement, with a mock bow.  
  
Draco chuckled at that. Zabini, friend or foe, was nevertheless an amusing person most of the time. It was a good thing too because Blaise was an integral part of his band. "Yes, we'll see some improvements now, won't we?" Draco added with a sly smile.  
  
Blaise returned the smile with one of his own. Before he could say anything, they were joined by Daniel Pucey, a sixth year Slytherin and his lead guitarist. "Draco, Blaise" Pucey acknowledged in a dry tone.  
  
"Pucey," Malfoy answered blandly. Daniel had a very dry wit and possibly even drier sense of humor. He wasn't quite as sociable as Blaise or Draco were, preferring to stay back in the shadows. Daniel was a man of few words and an even more guarded expression than Draco's, making him a bitch to play in poker. You never knew Daniel's hand, no matter what. He had a perfect bluffing face. The only thing that Draco knew was that Daniel played music possibly as a way to attract his parents' attention away from Adrian, his older brother. Malfoy had played Quidditch with Adrian on the Slytherin team for a few years and was of the personal opinion, of no matter how pure Adrian's blood was, he needed to be disapparated. Adrian wasted everyone's air, including that of mudbloods. And that was saying something.  
  
"Are we going to start practicing soon?" Pucey asked.  
  
Blaise raised an eyebrow and even Draco was mildly taken aback by Pucey interest. Not that he let it show. Although it was interesting that Pucey was as emotionally invested as the rest of them were in their band. "Once we get settled in and I get to talk to Brooks," Draco said in a bored tone, referring to Terry Brooks, their Ravenclaw bassist.  
  
Pucey nodded. The only non-Slytherin of their band, Brooks was nevertheless a brooding bassist. Who would have thought that of a Ravenclaw?  
  
At that moment, Crabbe and Goyle chose to materialize at his side, having spotted him talking to Blaise and Daniel. Good, old, dependable, dim- witted Crabbe and Goyle. Draco both liked having two personal body guards and his own personal entourage since the first year. Despite everything, they were loyal to a fault. On the other hand, he despised such blind obedience. It reminded him too much of Lucius. Nevertheless, he had appearances to keep, saying goodbye to Blaise and Daniel before climbing into a thestral driven carriage and resigning himself to a mind-numbing conversation with Crabbe and Goyle before they arrived at the castle.  
  
------------------- -------------------- -------------  
  
The carriage ride to the castle was enjoyable, as Ginny and Ron started recounting some of the summer's fiascoes involving testing Fred and George's products. Most of the results were unpleasant but always hilarious. Harry and Hermione spent a good time just gasping for air, holding their sides as their bodies ached from laughing so hard. Crookshanks just looked at her annoyingly from the floor of the carriage  
  
"I really don't see what's so funny about that," Ron said crossly.  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ginny would just exchange looks and burst out laughing again. Ron's ears just turned red in embarassment. Despite all the years, Ron had not changed. Still having a tendency to put his foot in his mouth, still didn't have a clue about what was going on. Despite everything, he was a loyal friend and ready to go to the very end, even if he fainted along the way.  
  
The carriage finally stopped and they all got out. No sooner Hermione looked up that she saw Professor McGonagall, with her trademark square glasses and emerald cloak. "Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall's rather severe voice, rang loudly.  
  
"Yes Professor?" Hermione inquired curiously.  
  
"Please follow me. I have to show you to your new quarters before the Feast begins," Professor McGonagall explained.  
  
Hermione nodded her head, picking up Crookshanks in her arms. They knew they had at least half and hour before the arrival of the first years and their Sorting into the houses. She knew that neither she nor McGonagall could afford to miss the beginning of the ceremony.  
  
"Bye Hermione. See you in the Hall," Ginny chirped.  
  
"Bye Hermione. See you soon." both Harry and Ron said, almost at the same time. Hermione smiled back at that. They really spent so much time together over the past few years that they could very well just finish each other's thoughts.  
  
She followed McGonagall up the steps of the castle and saw that Malfoy was waiting there for the professor as well. She gave him a stony look before deciding to ignore him completely. She kept her eyes focused on McGonagall's back and on where they were going. Part of her was surprised that Malfoy hadn't made a remark until then, but she knew that he wasn't daft enough or stupid enough to start a fight with her in front of a teacher. Unless it was Snape. Hermione allowed herself a small, secretive smile when she thought of Snape. He certainly wasn't the Slythering everyone thought he was. She could just imagine Malfoy's face if he found out that his favorite diabolical teacher was really in league with Dumbledore. Not that she would breathe a word about it until the time was right. Everyone assumed that Snape was a loyal Death Eater to Voldemort, and that was the way it was going to stay,  
  
Eventually, Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a potrait of a wizard, sleeping peacefully in a big plush chair with a roaring fire in the background. His wizard's cap lay askew on this gray hairs and he was snoring peacefully. Hermione could almost swear that Professor McGonagall snorted, if such an action was so unlike the teacher. She however rapped the frame smartly, awakening the old man not quite so gently.  
  
"Huh? Whose there?" the wizard said sleepily, before his eyes came into focus. Once he saw the Professor and the two students behind him, he hastily tried to make repairs to his appearance. "Why Minerva! What a pleasure to see you my dear! You are looking more and more beautiful as the years go by!" he said with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"Good to see you too, Waffling," she said tersely.  
  
"Tut tut tut, Minerva! Why so formal! Call me Adalbert!" the wizard said, gently reprimanding her.  
  
Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the old wizard's flirting with the stern professor.  
  
"In any case Waffling, allow me to introduce the new Head Girl, Ms. Hermione Granger, and the new Head Boy, Mr. Draco Malfoy," McGonagall answered, bristling a little and ignoring the wizard's suggestion.  
  
"Ah! And what a lovely young lass she is," the wizard said, turning his interested and merry eyes at Hermione. For an instant, she felt the insane urge to giggle at the old man but she squashed the impulse. The old wizard must have sensed the merriment behind her eyes and gave her a roguish wink.  
  
"It's been a while since I've encountered a Malfoy," the old wizard then turned his attention to Malfoy. "I hope you show this pretty lass all the courtesies that she deserves, as your forefathers before you would have done," he admonished gently.  
  
Hermione almost wanted to look back and cast a superior glance at Malfoy. It didn't matter that Adalbert Waffling was an old coot, or crazier than an old bat. His admonishment about the kind of behavior that Malfoy had to engage in probably was enraging him.  
  
"Of course," Malfoy said smoothly, with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "And the password would be?" he asked.  
  
"Bathilda Bagshot," Prof McGonagall said, almost imperiously as the picture frame swung open and the wizard was startled by the movement. She swept inside and Hermione followed suit.  
  
Hermione was stunned by the luxury of the common room. One half of the decor was in the traditional Gryffindor red and gold colors and the other half was in Slytherin's green and silver. Like the other common rooms, there were a number of couches and comfortable chairs at the center of the room, facing a large gray marble fireplace. The Hogwart's insignia was etched in the front, but only with the Lion and the Snake in the emblem. There were two desks in rich mahogany at either side of the room and the sides of the room sported two bookcases filled with books.  
  
In either side of the room there was a small staircase leading up toward the rooms. Hermione's feet itched to race to her room and check it but she waited for McGonagall.  
  
"This is a list and schedule of the duties of Head Boy and Girl. Some you are acquainted with, having been Prefects. However, there is a detailed explanation attached," she said pointing to a large message board in the wall between the staircases. "I'll give you a few minutes to see your rooms before I expect you to head down to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. You will be able to get settled afer dinner," she added as she went out the potrait door.  
  
Hermione let Crookshanks down gently on the floor before rushing up her stairs to her new room. It opened with a touch and she stepped into a very large and furnished bedroom. Her four poster bed was covered in deep red linens with a golden pattern. She also had a huge closet in which to keep her robes and clothes and a vanity mirror and chair. The carpet underneath her feet was a golden yellow with red swirls. French doors opened the door out to the balcony.  
  
The opened side door revealed the bathroom. She went in and marveled again at the luxury. The huge windows had an amazing sight of the lake, the sun illuminated the sunken bath in the middle of the room that looked like it could hold at least four people in it. She noticed the privy discretely to the left and the shower at the right. She turned around to see a huge mirror that spawned the entire side of the wall and two sinks  
  
Her brain registered the fact that there were two sinks in the room. With growing horror, she realized the implications and looked desperately to see if she was right. Through an opened side door, she saw Draco Malfoy looking straight at her horror stricken face with an amused glint in his eyes.  
  
------------ ---------------------- ------------------------  
  
Draco had stood in the common room, taking it all in as soon as McGonagall left the room. Although he was impressed at the superior quality of his new lodgings, it was nothing he wasn't accustomed to at Malfoy Manor. He was merely impressed that the school was able to match it. He certainly did want to appear gauche and like a simpleton by gawking the way Granger did. Although, it was to be expected. The poor idiot girl probably had never experienced the better things in life.  
  
He strolled leisurely up the stairs to his new bedroom. He was pleasantly gratified for the dark mahogany furniture, from the four postered bed upholstered in green and silver linens, the wardrobe he found and a writing desk. The french doors led to an outside balcony, He was about to go out through them, when he heard a purring at his feet.  
  
He looked down to see the ugly cat that Granger had been carrying all the time at his feet, rubbing itself against his left leg. He was about to kick it when it looked up at him and grinned a feline grin.  
  
Draco was startled at that. Although he shouldn't have. His mother had cats. But none exhibited the self-awareness that this cat did. Its yellow eyes looked amused at him. Much to his disconcernt, it actually winked at him.  
  
Draco was amused. Few living things courted him so familiarly. The poor animal was not at fault that its owner was an annoying know-it-all Mudblood witch. He knelt down and patted his head in one quick stroke.  
  
From this particular position, he noticed two feet clad in boring black functional shoes from the corner of his eye. Straightening himself, he saw the sidedoor that led to the bathroom and Granger looking around with almost an awestruck expression on her face. Her face glowed and she positively irradiated happiness. For an irrational second, Draco wondered what it would be like for her to look at him like that instead of the usual stony expression or her eyes hot with anger and loathing.  
  
He shook his head angrily. Hunger must be affecting his wits. And then he realized what it meant to have her standing in the bathroom. That meant that there was only one and they had to share it. The thought made Malfoy smirk with amusement. There were endless possibilities associated with that scenario. The look of horror in Granger's face was just the beginning, he felt with glee.  
  
"It looks like we'll be sharing the bathroom as well," he drawled, his trademark smirk in place. He let his eyes roam over Granger, in a suggestive manner because he knew that it would infuriate her. It wasn't like he was checking her out for real.  
  
He saw her face begin to flush and her eyes to sparkle with anger. He could almost laugh at how predicatable her reactions were, her face so expressive. He didn't need to notice how becoming it look on her, how alive she seemed.  
  
"Thank you for stating the obvious. However, we're gonna be late to the Feast and the Sorting Ceremony. Then, you and I will have a discussion about this situation," she said tersely before turning on her heel and slamming her door.  
  
His amusement far outweighed the anger he felt at her highhandness. Despite everything, he look forward toward the discussion they would have. If only for the reason she seemed to despise it. He strolled out of his room and to the Great Hall. 


	5. Chapter 5: Across the Great Hall

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 5: Across the Great Hall  
  
Hermione strode into the Great Hall decisively, the heel of her shoes making a pointed clackety-clack on the cold stone. She took in the four tables with a few spaces reserved in the front for the soon-to-be-sorted First Years, the students abuzz with excitement and gossiping amongst each other. She scanned the Gryffindor table until she found Ron, Harry and Ginny sitting together in the middle of the table. She spied the faces of some of her other fellow Gryffindors like Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown both gave her a smile and a wave, which she returned, her smile more grateful at not having to share quarters with them anymore this year than in pleasure of seeing them again.  
  
Hermione glanced to the front to see the Sorting Hat waiting quietly on its infamous stool and at the Head Table to see the usual professors there, Professor Flitzwick from charms, Snape from Potions, Vector from Arithmancy, Sprout from Herbology, Hagrid from Care of Magical Creatures. She didn't see Firenze there, but supposed that the centaur was more comfortable in his adapted room than in the Great Hall. She didn't suppose that most first years would be used to seeing a centaur. She did spy Professor Trelawney there, wearing even more beads than usual, making her look like a giant emerald insect. She caught the Headmaster Dumbledore's twinkling eyes behind their half-moon glasses, wry amusement dancing in them. She sent him a small smile before sitting down in the space that her friends had reserved for her.  
  
Dumbledore looked into the crowd and the murmurs and whispers stopped. As soon as there was silence, the giant doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall entered, leading the group of First Years in.  
  
Hermione looked at them curiously, without trying to stare avidly at them. She still remembered how frightening it had been to walk the entire length of the hall with all the eyes of the student body on her. She wondered idly how many Gryffindors they would get this year.  
  
Professor McGonagall stopped at the side of the Sorting Hat. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear what unique song the Sorting Hat would pronounce this year.  
  
The Sorting Hat's booming voice could be heard throughout the entire hall as it started its song:  
  
_"Welcome to Hogwarts First Years!  
Having come from far and near  
Sit on the stool and let me whisper in your ear!_  
  
_In what House shall you have your stay?  
In what House will you find your way?_  
  
_Shall it be Hufflepuff?  
Those of diligent manner and quiet speech  
Nevertheless have lessons in  
Loyalty and Perseverance to teach!_  
  
_Shall it be Ravenclaw?  
Those that prize learning and wits  
Often pay attention to the details  
Of mighty problems they can fix!_  
  
_Shall it be Slytherin?  
Those that prize cleverness and being sly  
We often forget that they teach us  
The lies in the truth and the truth in the lie!_  
  
_Shall it be Gryffindor?  
Those of courage and noble heart  
Although rash and impatient  
They are the light in the dark!_  
  
_Yet First Years remember these words I say!  
All Houses are but One!  
Differences are not what matter at the end of the day!_  
  
_ In what House shall you have your stay?  
In what House will you find your way?"_  
  
The Sorting Hat fell silent. Hermione looked with raised eyebrows at Harry and Ron who were seated across from her. It seemed that the Sorting Hat was continuing with its message of interhouse unity throughout the years, sometimes more subtly than others. Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione and Ron both knew what he was thinking: interhouse unity with Slytherins? Impossible! Hermione had to stifle a laugh. After seven years and harrowing adventures, she knew Harry and Ron's thought processes almost as well as her own. They really could just communicated with glances and looks.  
  
She was interrupted from her reverie by McGonagall's voice calling "Abbott, Jeremy" to be sorted first. Given the boy's likeness to Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott, the Sorting Hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" thunderously, cheers erupting from the Hufflepuff at receiving their first First Year. Hannah gave her brother a quick hug before he sat down.  
  
"Cho, Nathaniel" McGonagall called up a rather tall and lanky boy with short black hair. "RAVENCLAW!" the Hat pronounced.  
  
By this time, Hermione had become aware that someone was looking at her. Instinctively, she turned her face toward the Slytherin table to see Draco's steely gaze on her. His posture was relaxed but alert. His eyes were rolling clouds of thunder, but you could never really read the sky. You can notice the effects, like thunder and lightning and rain but you can never actually know what goes on. Hermione blinked and shook herself, she didn't know why she was thinking such things.  
  
Still, she didn't look away. Only when they received their first Gryffindor by the name of "Marilyn Creevey" was she capable of looking away and joining in with the clapping and cheering. At that moment, she decided it would be better if she put Malfoy out of her mind and paid attention to what was going on around her. The last thing she needed was Ron or Harry going ballistic about what they thought they saw. Because as she very well knew, nothing was happening. And that was how it was going to stay.  
  
---------------------------- --------------------- -----------------  
  
Draco was bored out of his mind. Blimey, the entire process was a load of crock. He didn't understand why they just couldn't be sorted BEFORE the feast. He chose to forget about his own trepidation as he walked down the hall and sat on the stool, his fate to be decided by a musty and old hat.  
  
Oddly enough, Draco had never considered the old hat before. He looked at it for a long time, a little fascinated on how that object had come into existence. Obviously, the four founders had needed an impartial judge to sort the school's applicants into the right houses but with enough knowledge so that the students would be able to thrive in the right atmosphere. In some cases, certain traits made the choice more apparent. In others, it was trickier.  
  
No sooner had the Sorting Hat started his song that he saw Blaise roll his eyes. Draco had to chuckle a bit. Both he and Blaise exchanged a look. It probably was the poor thing's only moment to shine all year. Although he knew that he and his bandmates could make a better song than that. Of course the headmaster was big on the interhouse unity idea. But Draco found that he much rather know who hated him than pretend to be friends with everyone. It was already difficult enough to try to decipher the motivations of those in his house. Granted, they were the slyest and cleverest of the entire lot, but the sheer volume of trying to figure out everyone out, well, odds were that you were bound to miscalculate.  
  
And if there was a thing he hated to do was to miscalculate.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pansy was trying desperately to try to attract his attention. He sighed internally. Shagging her these last two years to alleviate his boredom or whenever he couldn't find a more attractive or interesting bed partner were not worth trying to put up with her idiotic prattle. And despite her pureblood, Pansy was not as attractive as she should be. She might be model thin, with well endowed breasts and thighs that just won't quit but she was boring as a doorknob. The only book she probably read was the Kama Sutra, and that was because it had pictures so it was pretty self explanatory.  
  
Besides, there was nothing exciting about shagging Pansy. Anyone could. Even Crabbe and Goyle had shagged her and sometimes Draco had wondered if those two would ever figure out how to use their cocks. The real challenge was shagging the untouchables. Those were a worthy notch in your bedpost.  
  
Idly, he let his gaze surf the crowd. Everyone else was more interested in the Sorting, so he could watch at leisure. He noted the pretty girls that had been too young the year before and all the others he hadn't had a chance to charm the last time.  
  
His gaze settled on the Golden Trio and he felt his anger rise and flex like a cat, sinking its claws into his flesh. The-Boy-That-Annoyed-Him- The-Most and Weasel King sat placidly in their seats, eyes on the front of the hall, like kings watching their subjects. He felt the anger take a nail and rake it up his arm. Dumbledore's favorites. They had broken more rules than anyone else before and they were still hailed as heros.  
  
By its own volition, his eyes fell on her and he felt the anger simmer and lick at his insides. If bloody Potter and Weasley were kings, then she was their undisputed ice queen. Somehow, his mind wondered which one of the two, or if both of them, had gotten into her knickers. The image of a naked Granger, her long body, perfect breasts, moaning flashed before his eyes. In that instant, he realized that she would make a fantastic lover.  
  
Draco almost wanted to scowl at the thought. The last thing he wanted to do was find Granger attractive or shaggable. She probably was a frigid in bed! He was trying to convince himself that she probably was a virgin that didn't know the first thing about how to pleasure a man in bed when she noticed that someone was looking at her and instinctively turned her head to face him. It was as if she knew that he had been thinking about her. He swallowed hard.  
  
She really had amazing eyes, a rich luxurious brown. But brown was such a common word for something so lustrous and warm. The italian word, _marrone_, came to mind. It seemed more poetic and graceful than brown. For the third time that day, Draco wanted to curse his upbringing. He should not be thinking that Granger's eyes were something poetic or graceful. But he did. He supposed that this is the quality that also made him an excellent musician, an artist even. Still, it was an unwelcome trait to find something to admire in eyes that could have been his own, cold and unwelcoming.  
  
Draco had the unpleasant feeling of staring into a mirror. Is that what others saw in his eyes? But it only lasted so long before she turned back her attention to the Sorting and began cheering for her House's first new Gryffindor.  
  
He suddenly wanted to compell her to look at him again. To continue to stare into eyes that despised him but didn't lie. They were honest eyes. If there was one thing you could trust your enemy to do was to tell you the complete and blatant truth. That, or the biggest dribble you have ever been gullible enough to swallow. There were no petty half-truths or comforting lies.  
  
Apparently, his interest didn't go unnoticed. Zabini turned around to look over his shoulder and then he cocked his head inquiringly at Draco.  
  
Draco shifted his gaze to look at Zabini, whose lifted eyebrow and expression was one of mild curiosity and amusement. "Have we chosen a prey?" Zabini said with a quixotical half-smile and a glint in his eye.  
  
Draco considered this thought in his head. What better way to annoy Pothead and Weasel than play with their favorite doll? Snatch their favorite toy from under their noses. Besides, Malfoys were entitled to the best, and that included everyone else's toys. Then there was the added bonus of putting Granger in her rightful place. This time the image of Granger, writhing under him and moaning flashed before him. His smile turned blade thin, dangerous like the edge of a razor. He didn't commit himself to a verbal answer and let Zabini interpret that as he wished.  
  
Zabini's lowered his eyes for a moment as his grin widened slightly. He thought he knew what he saw. But then again, this was Malfoy we were talking about and the tricky chap never tipped his hand before he was confident enough to win. Zabini wondered idly if Draco had really considered what the ramnifications of dallying with Granger would be. But then again, where he skirted the edges of a fire, Draco would plunge straight into it. Either way, he would enjoy it if Draco made a spectable of Granger or himself. All in all, it was a good year to be in Slytherin. 


	6. Chapter 6: The Opening Gambit

[Author's Notes: to PsYcHoJo, I wasn't planning on making it a "bet" per se. As for the rockstar Draco, I haven't read any fics with him in that role. My main purpose for Draco as a musician is to allow me to show a different side of him, more introspective. To all my other readers, thank you for your kind words. They are encouraging me to keep writing.]  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR. The modified lyrics featured are "Siren" by Tori Amos  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 6: The Opening Gambit  
  
During the feast, Draco made it a point not to look at the annoying mudblood anymore. First impressions counted the most in Slytherin. He was not about to have some rumor about him acting like a besotted fool, over a Gryffindor no less. Besides, he had to show all Slytherins why he was their Prince. If not, any order he gave would be ignored. The chain of command had to be established from the very first second or the hierarchy would fall apart. And as he was at the top of the hierarchy, he was going to ensure his position and power.  
  
He did consider two other individuals during the feast though. The first one was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Granted, he was a bit shocked to find that Dumbledore had found someone for the position. The fate of the last six teachers was a little daunting and some reckoned that the position was cursed. And if anyone had to bet money on someone, it would be on Snape, the potions teacher. Draco figured that Snape would never get the DADA chair unless Dumbledore decided to keel over and die. And since that was very unlikely to happen, despite Dumbledore's advanced age, Snape would continue to be the Potions teacher that all the other houses loathed.  
  
That really wasn't the shocking part. After all, there was always a new DADA professor. The surprise was how distinctively unusual the professor appeared to be. First off, it was a she. Most DADA teachers were not women. Draco didn't even consider the Umbridge bitch a woman. She had been ugly as sin and meaner than a hell cat. Second of all, she gave an intense air of fragility. She looked like she had stepped out from some Asian myth, with her long raven hair and almond eyes. She was also dressed in what appeared to traditional Eastern robes, long and flowing sleeves that seemed to cover her hands and trail to the floor. Third, she looked young. But looks were deceiving. Dumbledore himself looked like he could be anywhere between 100 to 500 years old but probably had more vigor than most sixty year olds.  
  
By the looks on several of the boys faces, the Defense Against the Dark Arts would soon become a favorite subject. Maybe it was compensation from when Dumbledore hired that pansy Lockhart. Draco almost wanted to wretch at how half the female population had turned themselves into giggling machines when the nimrod had been there.  
  
The second thing he did consider was how to approach his bassist. Now, everyone who had attended Hogwarts previously was well aware of the fact that Terry Boot played in his band. However, he certainly did not want to give anyone that Slytherins openly fraternized with other Houses. And he certainly did not want to give Dumbledore the idea that he was buying into this interhouse unity crap.  
  
His gaze flickered to Zabini. As the token information broker of the house, Blaise could legitimately be seen in the company of others. In fact, that was expected. You could not be a good information broker if you did not socialize. In fact, it was Blaise that had brought Boots' talent to Draco's attention. Draco had been dispairing about finding a suitable bassist among the Slytherins. He had never questioned how Blaise knew that Boots played a mean bass, or that he'd be interested in joining their musical entourage. Not that it mattered if Boots wanted to participate or not, eventually he would have caved into Draco's manipulations or Blaise's blackmail.  
  
Draco's eyes caught Zabini's caramel ones. Almost preternaturally Zabini turned around to look at the Ravenclaw table. With an enigmatic half- smile, he rose and approached the tall, curly brown haired Boots and whispered in his ear. Boots' head jerked up and he sent a penetrating gaze to Draco, who looked coolly at him. Slowly, Boots nodded and Draco gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.  
  
Now that was true power.  
  
-------------------- -------------------------- ---------------------  
  
Hermione was in her room unpacking. She had decided to hold her discussion with the arrogant no-good ferret once she was done putting everything away. It would decrease the chances of her destroying something in a temper tantrum or handling some of her more delicate possessions roughly while agitated.  
  
Being the organized soul that she was, she put up all her school robes before they wrinkled. Next, she proceeded to stow her socks, underwear and muggle clothes in the dresser by the closet. Then, she put her jewelry and cosmetics on the vanity. Finally, she started decorating her room with some more personal touches. Her small collection of antique atomizers, she placed on the vanity table. She smiled at the three atomizers, filled with jasmine, water lily and sweet pea fragrances. She didn't care if the scents were subtle or 'unsexy', she felt pretty in them and that's what mattered. Besides, she wasn't sexy. She was Hermione Granger, ruddy bookworm extraordinaire.  
  
She started to tack up several of her photographs close to her bed. There was one of Harry and Ron, Ginny and herself, her parents, Harry, Ron and herself, Hagrid and one of all the seventh year Gryffindors. She also had pictures of the Weasley brothers, Nymphadora, Moody and other Order members. She placed them at the left side of the table, so that the sun wouldn't get in their eyes and so that they would be the farthest away from her changing screen.  
  
From her trunk she took out some of her favorite books and placed them by the night table. She loved curling up in bed with one of her books after a long day with Crookshanks. Some people, after going to class and studying all day, would probably stay away from the written word during their free time. Harry and Ron would play wizard's chess or go blow some steam with impromptu Quidditch practice if they were feeling particularly active. Hermione preferred more solitary activities. But with all the Gryffindors, it was difficult to get away.  
  
Taking a look around, she sighed and decided that she better stake her claim on one of the sinks before Malfoy decided to hog the bathroom. Grabbing an assorted number of toiletries, she started to arrange them on the counter. She organized her toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss and mouthwash. She also put her shampoo and conditioner in the counter, deciding that leaving them inside the shower was a gesture too intimate. Besides, it would be decidedly odd to use her shampoo or conditioner knowing that it had been in the same shower as a naked Malfoy.  
  
She shivered at the thought, telling herself that it was just disgust at the notion of Malfoy in any state of undress. 'Probably pasty white like a vampire' she thought derisively. But she knew that was wrong. Malfoy's skin tone did not have a gray undertone, but almost a pink translucence. Enough to convince anyone that he had red blood running through his veins. Hermione shook her head angrily. She must be going daft! There was no blood in Malfoy's veins. Just ice. Or poison.  
  
She walked back to her room, her mind a flutter with thoughts of Malfoy. Although there was animosity attached to them, she still didn't want to think about him. She would prefer it if she didn't. But once she had evoked his name, a flood of images came unbidden to her, mostly of his infamous smirk. That smirk that infuriated her to the point of wanting to permanently wipe it off his face, the prat. Getting cross, she focused on the one thought that had nothing to do with Malfoy.  
  
'Where is Crookshanks?' her mind thought, as she started to look for her cat around her room. She took the stairs down to the common room and peered around to see if her notoriously fickle cat was around. Momentarily distracted by reading the titles of the books found along the shelves, she sighed and resorted to the unseemly habit of calling her cat. Crookshanks was an intelligent animal, but calling to him was like trying to call to a cebu. You were not bloody likely to get a response. It wasn't like he was a dog and would come running at the sound of a whistle either. Sometimes, like this occasion, Hermione wished that her pet were less complex and more docile.  
  
"Crookshanks," she cooed in dulcet tones. Not that she didn't feel annoyance behind to crease her brow. But the animal instinctively knew if she was in a foul mood and would continue to stay away. And the last thing Hermione wanted was for Malfoy to find her pet and torture it with some unthinkably and hideously unpleasant. She was rather fond of her cat.  
  
She heard a corresponding 'miaow!' and called out "Crookshanks!" again, as sweetly as her rapidly thinning patience could allow. It had been a long day and she really just wanted to go to bed. Forget that this was her last year at Hogwarts, that she had another grueling school year in front of her, that she was a responsible Head Girl, that she had to share close quarters with Malfoy, that there was a war brewing in the outside world. She just wanted blessed oblivion.  
  
Crookshanks miaowed again and Hermione's ear followed the sound of his purring. Into Malfoy's room.  
  
"Blasted cat!" she muttered under her breath. The ever enigmatic and infurating pet of hers had decided that Malfoy's room was included in his domain. It was a good thing that Malfoy had left his door open and was not here at all. She didn't even want to imagine what kind of row they would have to get into. She was tired. She was cross. She wanted sleep.  
  
Decidedly, she climbed up the stairs and stepped into Malfoy's room. Incidentally, she noticed that it didn't look like anyone had moved in. Malfoy's luggage was still piled to one side of the bed, a series of trunks in different sizes. Crookshanks was curled up in the middle of his bed, his orange hair constrasting against the deep green and silver of the comforter. He lifted his head, blinked and miaowed again before attempting to settle in for another nap.  
  
"Oh no you don't, you rascal!" Hermione said a little irritated. She hated, just a little, how her cat had taken such a confidence to Malfoy. It had taken it almost a year to warm up to Harry and Ron. Granted, the presence of Pettigrew and Ron's animosity against Crookshanks hadn't helped either. Still, she could almost swear that Crookshanks bore them a special grudge, liking to sharpen his claws on their Quidditch shoes.  
  
She scooped up Crookshanks into her arms but before she could turn around she heard a voice drawl, "Well, well, what did the pussycat drag in?" before the door to the common room thudded shut.  
  
-------------------------- --------------------- -----------------------  
  
Draco's eyes glinted when he discovered the source of his constant irritation in his room. Not that he was willing to admit that he had been thinking about her. Which of course, he had not been. At least not consciously. He had pushed her to the fringes of his mind after Zabini's comment and while he gave the first year Slytherins a 'personal welcome' and reaffirmed his status on the top of the feeding chain. Of course he had received dark looks from some of the sixth years that were expecting to inherit the power position from him once he graduated, but he need to remind the upstart bucks that he was still here, even if he wasn't sharing personal quarters with them. Draco prided himself in having precise and diamond control over the rest of the Slytherins. It was the only way the pyramid and hierarchical structure they had would work.  
  
And despite of a few weeks without female companionship, he escaped the Slytherin common room with alacrity. He just couldn't stomach Pansy's nasal whine about how much she had missed him or inane dribble. Of course, she had offered in not-so-subtle words to help him assuage him of sexual tension, a lascivious glint in her eyes and a beguiling smile on her lips. However, not even the idea of a romp in the sack made Pansy even remotely attractive in Draco's eyes under the current mood he was in.  
  
He felt an almost unholy glee at finding Granger in his bedroom, without her voluminous school robes, looking rather delectable, which he admitted to himself. More than the sight of her in just a boring conservative gray woolen skirt and an almost snug and translucent crisp white shirt with the Hogwart's insignia in the breast pocket was the look of sheer terror at having been caught. He almost wanted to rub his two hands together at this golden opportunity, but it was a little too undignified and pervy even for him.  
  
A part of his brain also noted that she was barefoot, without shoes or socks. It made the entire scene... almost intimate. Ridiculously, Draco warmed to the thought but immediately squashed whatever thoughts he had along those lines. The only thing he could possibly be interested in Granger would be annoying the hell out of her.  
  
"Waiting for me Granger?" Draco almost purred out in a silky tone, amused as her surprise at being found turned into a deep annoyance.  
  
"I just came here to get my cat," she snapped back testily, scooping the large ugly cat from before that had decided, during his absence, to make himself quite comfortable in his bed.  
  
"And here I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me about something, which is why you set up this little rendezvous," Draco said blandly, although his words seemed suggestive enough.  
  
"If I thought we were capable of civil conversation, I would," she said coolly.  
  
This made Draco's anger flare out unexpectedly. Little mudblood bitch, he wanted to snarl. A Malfoy was always capable of civil conversation. If he didn't choose to exercise the right that was another matter altogether. But he could speak the tongue of mortals and angels with anyone from a king to a commoner if he so chose to. "I am capable of speaking civilly, to you and anyone else as necessary. But let's get to the point Granger. I assume you wanted to discuss a bathroom schedule," he said in a clipped tone.  
  
She narrowed her warm eyes at him. She looked like a cat about to spit. Ironically, the cat itself was nestled comfortably in the crook of her arms. "Complete and utter privacy when using the bathroom. I'm not putting up a peepshow for your enjoyment," she stated.  
  
"Like I'd fancy seeing you buck naked," Draco scoffed. Again, an image of a naked Granger, this time rising from the water like Aphrodite rising from the sea foam came unbidden to his mind. And it was utterly appealing, warming his blood. He wanted to curse at himself. That had to be the third time he had thought about her naked today.  
  
"I also like to shower before class. I am willing to trade off on who goes first, as long as the first person doesn't use all the hot water," Hermione continued, ignoring his comment.  
  
"That's fine. I don't fancy showing up to all my classes without a proper bath after Quidditch practice," Draco said with a shrug. "I don't have the schedule yet at the moment."  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
Draco studied Granger for a moment. It would be infinitely more pleasant if they were not continuously bickering. He would like to study somewhere other than the library for once. The common room seemed inviting and pleasant enough. It was also large enough to accomodate band practice. He and the guys had been looking for a private room in which to practice in. They usually tried to use the Room of Requirement, but that was notoriously unstable and anyone could wander in as well, if they were looking for them. Pansy had the annoying habit of showing up, as well as a small group of girls from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.  
  
"Another thing, Granger," he started to say slowly. He noted the growing suspicion in her eyes and her guarded expression. "Despite our... fondness, for lack of a better word, for each other, I would prefer being able to sleep without worrying about hexes or other complications this year. We will not be able to live peacefully and changing quarters is not an option. Despite everything, we are Head Boy and Girl and we are to set up the example of student behavior and decorum. I'm not going to go out of my way to avoid you and I'd like to be able to relax and use the common room. I can attempt to be civil if you can as well," he finished saying.  
  
Hermione watched him silently, as if trying to gage his words. He could tell she was a little surprised at his rather mature words. Well, he'd done a lot of growing up in the last few years. And to be honest, he would rather not have to worry about being hexed in his own private sanctum. And there was no way around Granger at the moment. "Agreed," she said evenly.  
  
Draco decided to postpone asking about band practice in the band room until his meeting with Boots. He was relieved and satisfied that she had agreed to his proposition. It made his life easier. But still he couldn't help himself. "So unless there is anything else I can do for you, Granger, kindly take your flea ridden pet and allow me my privacy," he said mildly.  
  
He saw her eyes flash menacingly but she turned on her heel, taking her cat with her and slamming the door that connected his room to the bathroom. He chuckled and reached for his guitar. Sitting on the green and silver bedspread, he felt inspiration strike and let the words just fill his head as his hands plucked a melody from the guitar.  
  
_"You know I lied to you  
But in my own way  
You know I lied to you  
But it's the only way  
  
I lie so well  
Alone, so well  
  
You're the cure  
  
I know you too well  
The chills  
She burns  
My siren  
No teenage flesh  
No shields  
No breaks  
My siren  
  
Never one for chills  
No, I  
  
Never was one for a prissy girl  
Coquette, calling for an amulet  
Reach high  
Doesn't mean she's holy  
It just means she's got a spell handy  
  
Almost brave  
Almost a break in hand  
Almost in love  
Vanilla, vanilla  
  
You know I lied to you  
But in my own way  
You know I lied to you  
Heaven's the only way  
  
I never lied about  
My love  
So different  
Someone said  
  
I know you too well  
The chills  
She burns  
My siren  
No teenage flesh  
No shields  
No breaths  
  
My siren"_  
  
And in Draco's mind kept seeing _marrone_ eyes.   



	7. Chapter 7: The First Day of Classes

[Author's Notes:

to ProwlingKitKat, I don't need to do anything. Credit is, and has been from the beginning and will continue to be, given in the disclaimer, so that real people are aware of where the song is coming from. Within the Harry Potter world, the songs could very well come from a blue polka dotted pixie with a unicorn horn that speaks French. Let it be.

to MysticalSpirits, Blaise in my fiction is the equivalent of a transsexual person/transvestite in the real world, except he uses magic to induce gender changes. I want Blaise to be as unpredictable as possible.

to xBridexOfxDraculax, thank you for pointing out your favorite lines. It gives me a better idea of what is good about my writing style so that I can improve based on that.

to everyone else, thank you for your continued readership. If you want a personal note, don't just tell me it's good... tell me why you think it's good.]

DISCLAIMER: All characters are owned by JKR.Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble.Chapter 7: First Day of ClassesHermione woke up with a start as her alarm clock started to play the booming beginning of Carl Orff's "O Fortuna". She found out that it began quietly, the latin teasing at the fringes of her waking mind. Before she could grasp what the words were, the song had launched into its rising chorus and the booming drums that were compelling at a deep primitive level. It was like announcing the brilliant sun.  
  
She particularly liked the sound of "Fortune plango vulnera." Perhaps it was not the most uplifting of lyrics, once you translated the latin. But there was something equally powerful about the music that commanded your attention.  
  
Like Draco Malfoy. Even his name was unpleasant. 'The Dragon Bad Faith'. Nevertheless, he was compelling. In many ways, Orff's "O Fortuna" was similar to Malfoy. Despite the darkness surrounding Orff's music, it demanded your acknowledgement. It was the same with Malfoy. You simply could not ignore him.  
  
This brought back memories from last night. Having been caught in his room and having an almost civil conversation was enough to rattle her. For her, the most embarrassing part was that she had been barefoot. It had given the entire incident an almost personal level, like if she were comfortable around him, like if they were sharing something. It was like if he had been Ron or Harry. Of course, she was relieved that he was willing to leave their enormous enmity behind, confined to the world outside their common room. It made her personal quarters livable. And she was glad she would be able to use the bathroom and common room without worrying about her personal safety.  
  
And she did love the idea of her personal common room. She would be able to study somewhere other than the library! Not that she had anything against the library, but it would be nice to study in a couch by the fire with a cup of hot cocoa or coffee next to her instead of those uncomfortable wooden chairs that must have belonged to a monastery because they were unnecessarily hard. Especially after several hours of sitting on them. She wouldn't have to smuggle her cocoa into the library again! She was always worried that Madame Pince would catch her and have her thrown out, disrupting her study schedule. The times that she had tried to use the Gryffindor common room, either Ron or Harry tried to distract her or tried to copy their answers from hers. Or another Gryffindor was using the common room for leisure, playing wizard's chess, running around, talking loudly with friends.  
  
Another distinctive advantage was not having to share the bathroom with Lavender or Parvati. They always took bloody forever in the loo and used all the hot water. She had to get up extra early to sneak into the showers before all the hot water was gone. Nor would she miss their primping before the morning, putting on make up or using beauty charms. She had sometimes watched them in the mornings, getting ready and scorned their fastidiousness and their preoccupation of looking attractive for the boys. She had always felt a little torn between her scorn and the desire to imitate them, to be silly and laughing, surrounded by girl friends, worrying about boys. But instead of saying anything to Lavender or Parvati, she would just shake her head. She had more important things to worry about, like her studies and making sure that Ron or Harry didn't commit another blunder.  
  
Besides, it was too much effort in the morning to remember to curl your eyelashes or using a charm so that your skin tone was perfectly even. She also told herself that she did not want a boy's attention merely because of the way she looked. She wanted a boy to see her for her. Even Ron and Harry had problems with that. It was not until Viktor Krum that the other Gryffindor boys, along with Ron and Harry, realized she was a girl.  
  
She was grateful to Viktor for that. She had been flattered by his attention. He had been the first boy to ever approach her and she knew that it wasn't because of her looks. They had met in the library, and talked about school and traveling. He appreciated her intellect and her drive to succeed. She knew that she was not beautiful, despite what her parents' praise and insistence. Of course, her dad and mum thought she was beautiful, she was their child. She also suspected that Viktor also liked that, seeing that he wasn't the handsomest boy around either; but not as much as he had liked the fact that she had not befriended him because he was an internationally known Quidditch player. She had talked to him as a fellow student, intent on learning.  
  
Thinking happy thoughts, Hermione grabbed her pink bathrobe that had faded to a light baby pink, bordering on white. She had thought about buying a new bathrobe but dismissed the idea because no one else would be seeing her in it. It was also considerably shorter than when she first bought it.  
  
Stepping into the bathroom, she locked the connecting doors and set up a number of warding spells on them. She didn't trust Malfoy's word completely. Who would? He seemed to have given it in bad faith. She was no longer naïve or an innocent. Hermione had learned long ago that there was significant difference between words and actions. And she was not willing to give Malfoy the opportunity to prove the discrepancy.  
  
With her hair smelling like lavender from her shampoo, her skin covered in moisturizing lotion, she put on her uniform and school robes, leaving the robes open. She spritzed some jasmine on her pulse points, gathered her schoolbag that looked like it was about to burst at its leather seams, and headed out the door to the Great Hall. She thought about putting a reinforcing charm on the seams but decided to do it later in the day. She had promised Ron and Harry she would meet them for breakfast to compare schedules.  
  
She arrived at the Great Hall to see most of the kids streaming in for their first breakfast of the year. It was always a hearty meal, as if the students needed particular fortification against the rigorous day. Given what she knew of most of the others' summer vacations, they needed the food and coffee. She personally liked to start off the day with a big cup of coffee, eggs and bacon, buttered toast with orange marmalade and an apple. She knew that coffee was terrible for her teeth, as her dentist parents always ranted and raved about it at home but she just couldn't give up the habit. Neither could her parents as both of them were avid coffee drinkers. It was probably a good thing they were dentist or their oral hygiene would be terrible.  
  
"Oy! Hermione!" Ron called out, waving toward her and pointing to a seat next to him, right next to Harry. His eyes were bright with excitement, which was strange because Ron was not fond of studying or classes. He had a lot to live up for, with his three elder brothers having excelled in academia. Quidditch was a little different because the entire Weasley family was quite adept. Hermione had the suspicion that Mrs. Weasley had increased the academic pressure on Ron, especially after Fred and George had decided not to finish their schooling before they started running their joke shop business.  
  
Harry looked up from his plate of eggs and bacon and gave her a warm smile. That smile meant a lot to Hermione. There had been a period in which Harry had not smiled at all, despite their best efforts. For her, it meant that Harry had matured and was not letting the upcoming war interfere with this last year of school and adolescence.  
  
"Hey," she said with a smile as she sat down between Ron and Harry and proceeded to serve herself her favorite breakfast.  
  
"So what's your schedule like this year, Hermione?" Harry asked, between bites of his toast.  
  
The last two years their schedules had varied quite a bit as they took different levels of advanced classes. She and Harry were both in Snape's N.E.W.T. potion class but Ron had opted out of taking potions. He would have done it out of loyalty but Snape wouldn't let him. Instead, Ron was taking Advanced Muggle Studies. Hermione was the only one of the three in the N.E.W.T. Arithmancy class. Ron and Harry were still taking Divination and Hermione expressed a curiosity now that Firenze was the teacher, but simply her schedule did not allow her to take another class. Harry was taking Advanced Herbology. All of them had care of Magical Creatures together, Transfiguration, Charms and DADA.  
  
"Well, I have Arithmancy first and then it seems like we're all meeting up for DADA class," Hermione said cheerily. She really enjoyed her Arithmancy class with Professor Vector. It appealed to her precise nature. There were formulas and you could apply them to the data in front of you. She had even taken a class on Judaism over the summer when she heard her mum comment that there was a sect of Judaism that believed you could find the name of Yahweh through numbering the words of the Torah.  
  
"How about a quick lunch after Charms and let's go outside and enjoy the last of the summer before it gets too chilly?" Harry suggested.  
  
"I have even a better idea, why don't we take lunch outside? We can just come in and grab a whole bunch of food and eat outside!" Hermione said, pleased with Harry's suggestion.  
  
"Bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, a huge grin on his face. "We can bring out our brooms too!"  
  
"Well, then, it's settled," Hermione said with a smile and a last gulp of coffee. "I'll see you all later!"  
  
Both she and Seamus Finnegan rose up from the table and started their way to Professor Vector's room and talking chummily about what Seamus had done over the summer.  
  
----------------------- ------------------------ -------------  
  
Draco swept into Professor Vector's room and sat down in the back by himself, in an empty table. He was the only seventh year Slytherin taking the advanced Arithmancy class. Before, he and Blaise had sat together throughout their Arithmancy courses but Blaise had opted against taking the advanced class.  
  
Draco did not mind in the least. He didn't feel the need to be constantly surrounded by his cronies. He was actually relieved at being the only Slytherin taking this class. He could sit in the back and just work and not have to worry about intrigues or political maneuvering. It was a good break from the rest of the day. He didn't have to put up with Crabbe or Goyle being imbecilic or matching wits with Zabini. More importantly, he didn't have to put up with Pansy's fawning or Millicent's intense lust filled gaze. He actually got the shivers from thinking about Millicent. The girl resembled a large bull that looked like she wanted nothing more than gore him to death. Perhaps he could convince Crabbe or Goyle to start dating her to get her off his back.  
  
And despite it all, he enjoyed being away from the Slytherin quarters. He had sorely missed having his own room. Even if he had to share the bathroom and common room with an annoying know-it-all Mudblood, he knew he would see very little of her. If it were Malfoy Manor, he would have been able to avoid seeing her altogether. He certainly managed to avoid seeing his parents except for the requisite family dinner every night. He knew what it was to live in a hostile environment.  
  
When he had been rudely awoken by her booming alarm, he had thought about hurtling himself through their connecting doors and bloody yell at her for waking up so blasted early in the morning. It didn't help that he had been up late last night and had been in the middle of one of the best wet dreams of his life. He couldn't recall her face but she had a glorious body. His lower body clenched as he remembered perfect breasts, a dainty waist and silky smooth skin. It also didn't help that his fantasy woman had been riding him for all he was worth in his dream, moving above him, her head thrown back exposing the delicate column of her neck. He had woken up with cockstand and aching all over.  
  
Then, he had been intrigued by the music that kept playing in her bedroom. He recognized the lyrics as Latin and was surprised at the message they conveyed. He was surprised that Granger actually liked the song. It seemed something too dark, or powerful or seductive for the likes of her.  
  
He heard her take a shower, heard the sprinkling of the water and found it a comforting sound. It reminded him of when he was a small boy and his mother would draw him a bath. It was a oddly soothing noise that he had not heard in years. So he laid in bed, looking up at his green canopy and letting sleep cling to the edges of his eyelashes.  
  
His mind had been in this strange reminiscent mood when he entered the bathroom after she left, the scent of lavender fragrant in the room and the shower tiles still warm from the water of her shower. He found the entire scene intimate, like if they were living together. He had shaken his head, trying to clear it from memories and sensual dreams. They were sharing quarters, that was all. They had an uneasy halt to hostility. And that was the way he wanted it. He didn't want to be friends with a mudblood, especially one as annoying as she was. He certainly didn't want to find her attractive. He didn't want to lust after her. He didn't want to share anything with her.  
  
Still the faint scent of lavender lingered in the room, and the fantastical dream he had made him edgy.  
  
This made him curt during breakfast. Not that it had been a problem or even a detractor among his house members. Crabbe and Goyle had sat down at either side of him and proceeded to devour large quantities of everything present. It was a miracle that the school had not raised tuition rates for everyone the way those two ate. He had received the customary package from his parents, homemade goodies that his mother had no doubt had the house elves make. His face had twisted into a bitter smile and he kept the package with his school things. A reminder of what life was really about, keeping up appearances.  
  
He opened the package up now and started nibbling on a macaroon. He gazed around the classroom and saw how small the Advanced Arithmancy class really was. There were 4 Ravenclaws, 3 Hufflepuffs, 2 Gryffindors and himself. Well, out there in the real world Arithmancy was not as practical as Charms or Transfigurations. It was a more scholarly magic. It was no longer a requirement for a ministry jobs these days.  
  
His gaze fell on the two Gryffindors who were talking animatedly. Of course, Granger had to be one of them. The other one he recognized by the name of Seamus Finnegan. He was another mudblood, his mother was a witch and his father was a muggle. For the life of him, Draco could not understand how a witch could ever consider marrying a muggle. They were just so... ordinary. She probably had done so out of love, which just prove what a fool she was. Love was just an illusion, a trap for those that were foolish enough to fall into it. Gryffindor House was full of mudbloods, it was amazing that there were even purebloods in the house. Granted, Weasley didn't count because they were poorer than dirt. Longbottom might as well have been a squib with the amount of magic he had.  
  
His attention turned to her, to her flushed face and her sparkling eyes. His eyes narrowed in annoyance at what Finnegan and her could possibly be discussing that she found so interesting. Finnegan, in his quick estimation, looked like a dolt. But he should have figured that Granger had poor taste in men. Besides, it wasn't bloody likely that Finnegan would be able to break up the Golden Trio. Other people tended to be intimidated by The-Boy-That-Lived-To-Be-An-Arse and Weasel King.  
  
Before he could finish ruminating on how much he really despised the Golden Trio, Professor Vector entered the room and began to lecture. His attention immediately snapped to the front of the room as he chewed on macaroons while taking extensive notes on the class. 


	8. Chapter 8: The New DADA Class

[Author Notes:  
moonlite roses: who is simon crowell?  
lizdarcy1: part of the reason of being in a community is being able to write back to the people that comment on your stories. i like to know who leaves comments on the story  
prowlingkitkat: didn't mean intentionally to be rude, just a little touchy. this is my first fanfiction.  
to everyone else: thanks for the patience. its been a hectic last few weeks. will try to update as soon as possible]  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 8: The New DADA class  
  
After Arithmancy class, both Seamus and Hermione started down the hall and into the East Wing, where the Advanced DADA class was to be held. Like everyone in the school, they were all intensely curious about their new teacher. More importantly, they were curious as to where Dumbledore had found her. After the dismissal of Trelawney and the hiring of Firenze for the position of Divinations professor, most of the student body was surprised that the professor was human, or at least appeared humanoid. And pretty. Hermione thought she looked like a china doll she often saw in muggle toy shops, with her porcelain complexion and eyes blacker than Hecuba's ink. Seamus kept saying that he hoped that she'd last throughout the entire year; she seemed awfully delicate.  
  
When they finally arrived to the DADA classroom, they were thunderstruck by the change in décor. Instead of damp, stony floors and wooden benches, they were greeted by tatami covered floors and with individual desks that sat low on the floor, so that it looked like you had to sit on the floor to be able to use them. The walls were covered in wall scrolls, some with writing on it and some that appeared to be landscapes, misty mountains were the mist swirled about with running streams and storks grazing in the marshy shallows. The air was fragrant with incense sticks that seemed to be burning in all four corners of the room. At the front of the class, there was a huge blackboard and another individual desk.  
  
Hermione quickly noted that they were sharing the classroom with Slytherins and both her and Seamus moved to the Gryffindor side of the room. Seamus moved to sit by Dean and she found herself between Harry and Ron again. The room was relatively packed since most of the students thought it wise to take the advanced levels of DADA in these troubled times. Why the Slytherins opted to do so was a continuing puzzle, although it was often speculated that they merely wanted to know what their enemies knew.  
  
No sooner had Hermione sat down that a gong resounded in the room, its echo resounding throughout the room as the students quieted down and awaited the teacher with bated breath. She entered the room from her office, gliding silently, her robes fluttering behind her, trailing like streamers and her head held high, not looking at the students. Once she reached the front of the classroom, she turned to face them.  
  
She surveyed the room as the students surveyed her. At first glance, she appeared unassuming and affable, with her small smile. But there was something else that kept your attention riveted on her. It wasn't that she was extremely beautiful or enchanting, you didn't feel the same compelling force as when you were looking at a Veela. Perhaps it was more of an acknowledgment that this woman was something more. She seemed to irradiate calm and peace.  
  
Then she spoke, in a low and soothing voice that caressed you, like when you run your fingers through silk, "Welcome. I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You may call me Professor Tara. I expect the format of this class will be different from what you are accustomed to, but I do not doubt that you will enjoy it. We have much to do, so expect to devote a good amount of time to completing the tasks I set on you."  
  
No one said anything. What could they say? To Hermione, her words were no different to those of other Professors. She was used to homework. She was surprised that no one groaned. Everyone else just seemed to be entranced by the new professor. A piece of parchment appeared on her desk and Hermione immediately looked down.  
  
"This is a tentative course schedule for the class. If a particular theme or spell takes more time, things will be shifted around to accommodate the loss of time," Professor Tara said as Hermione scanned the course schedule and looked up confused. Her confusion was mirrored in the looks of the others.  
  
"As you can see, the nature of this class has been divided into two. Depending on the week, I will be teaching you the traditional DADA course work. These sessions will tend to be intense as your previous DADA teachers were very irregular. Your Professor Lupin was the one that taught you the most, a situation that has to be rectified post-haste. The other part of the course I will be teaching you wandless magic," Professor Tara said.  
  
"Professor Tara? Did you say wandless magic?" Lavender Brown's voice interrupted the silence. Most of the students were stunned at the thought of being taught wandless magic.  
  
"Yes. From all of your expressions, this appears to be a novel concept. To my mind, it makes the most sense. There are several circumstances in which you will be separated from your wand, making you incredibly defenseless. As your professor, my primary concern is to teach you how to defend yourself in several different scenarios, including those that are without a wand," the Professor explained.  
  
"How did you get past the Ministry's restriction on wandless magic?" Blaise Zabini asked, a question that was burning on everyone's mind.  
  
"The Ministry does not restrict the teachings of muggles," she replied calmly. There was an audible gasp from the entire class. Muggles doing magic? It was impossible.  
  
Their professor laughed heartily, and it was musical like the fluttering of butterflies. "I see that I will have to explain the logic and history behind this class. Nevertheless, it shall prove to be an important lesson and I suggest that perhaps you take note of the answers I give. Or at the very least, remember them," she said calmly.  
  
"Without going into an in-depth discussion or debate on the nature of magic, let us all agree and assume that magic has a myriad of forms. Are we all in agreement?" Professor Tara looked at the class. The Gryffindors nodded their heads. The Slytherins continued to look at the professor inscrutably.  
  
"Good. Everyone is also perfectly aware that a wizard or witch can have muggle parents. Have you ever wondered why? Sometimes, the answer can be found among family history, a long lost ancestor. Other times, there is simply no such answer. In my opinion, it is very simple. Every human carries a tiny spark of magic in them. In some cases, like those of a wizard or a witch, it is a bigger spark or flame."  
  
"My studies took me to the East where I encountered old beliefs and older forms of magic. In the Orient, there was no distinction between being a wizard and being a muggle in some of their magical practices. For them, the ability to perform wand magic was merely a differing characteristic like the color of eyes. Because in essence, we are all alike. We are all human."  
  
Hermione warmed up to this thought. Too often, she had tried to reconcile the magical side of herself and the muggle side. Her parents, ummagical and ungifted, had a gifted child. They were proud of her but Hermione knew that at least part of them were mystified about her powers. More importantly, she had not been able to find a hereditary source for her gift. What Professor Tara said made sense to her.  
  
"Professor, no disrespect intended, but what can muggles teach us?" Malfoy drawled.  
  
Professor Tara turned her attention to Malfoy and gave him a warm smile. "Muggles have been constantly learning how to function within this world without wand magic, without casting a spell to wash dishes or to defend themselves from an attack. There are valuable lessons in their creativity and their endurance. In the West, we have come to rely too much on our gifts and not enough on our two hands. We have ignored the possibilities of our bodies. In the East, there are disciplines that take the spark we all have and have learned to fan it into a flame."  
  
Hermione had read something about the mysterious East in a book once. There magic seemed to work in different ways than their own. She felt excitement growing at the prospect of expanding her field of knowledge.  
  
"Perhaps a demonstration is in order," their teacher said before turning around and using her wand to make a giant rock appear in the front of the classroom. She then turned and walked toward Malfoy and gave him her wand. "You seem to be the most doubtful. Please hold my wand until the very end of the demonstration to assure yourself that I have not been casting any spells," she said before turning around to face the rather large rock.  
  
For a few seconds, the entire class just looked at their Professor. She seemed to almost change in front of them. With her eyes closed, her posture becoming straighter and slightly more rigid and the aura before her seemed to intensify, like an electrical field charging. She took three breaths, opened her eyes and with a step forward, she punched the rock.  
  
She stepped back and the rock began to crack from the point of impact. It crumbled into large chunks.  
  
Hermione could not believe her eyes. It just didn't seem logical. Their teacher had just punched a giant boulder into smithereens. It wasn't possible.  
  
Professor Tara turned around to face them again. "Impossible? You have seen it with your two eyes. Your classmate has held my wand and can testify that I have not cast any spells. So how did I do it?"  
  
Not even Hermione had an answer for this.  
  
"I do not expect any of you to be able to do this at the end of the year. Although you have the gift, you do not have the proper training or discipline to do so. If we had time, I could teach you to be able to do this and much more. However, you will be able to derive other benefits from my teachings, namely increased focus and reflexes," Professor Tara said.  
  
"Could you show us what you mean with increased reflexes?" Dean Thomas asked.  
  
"Of course. This would require all of you to stand next to the left classroom wall and three volunteers," Professor Tara answered.  
  
All of the Gryffindor hands shot up to the air and some of the Slytherins did as well. Professor Tara picked Blaise Zabini, Dean Thomas and Hermione as her volunteers. She gestured for everyone to move to the left wall. "Now, my volunteers need to make bolts of arrows come my way," she said, gesturing to the three piles of arrows that were located in the right corner of the wall, next to the incense. "Accio arrows should suffice."  
  
Dean Thomas and Hermione looked at each other, a little scared and surprised. If something went wrong, would they be held accountable? Would they be accused of attempted murder? Blaise Zabini seemed nonplussed. Professor Tara seemed to notice their hesitation and told them to proceed.  
  
The arrows levitated off the ground. With their wands, Blaise, Dean and Hermione made them fly toward their teacher.  
  
It was almost beautiful to watch. Professor Tara used the overly large and long sleeves of her robes to deflect the arrows, her arms spinning around her as she seemed to weave in and out of their trajectory. It was over in a matter of seconds. The arrows fell in a clank at the right side of the room. After the last arrow, their professor seemed to let out a sigh and turned to face them.  
  
"If there are no more questions, I would like my wand back and we can use the remainder of the class time to refresh what you have learned in previous DADA classes," their teacher said.  
  
---------------------------------- -------------------------------- -------- --------  
  
Draco had picked up his acoustic guitar on the way to the Great Hall for lunch and to pick up Crabbe and Goyle. Given the weather, most of the students were opting to take the food outside and enjoy the dying summer. He ate quickly and left Crabbe and Goyle to continue stuffing their faces. Besides, they had wanted to go workout instead. He avoided Pansy and a gaggle of Slytherin girls by the Entrance Door and made his way into the shade of the trees in the western bank of the Great Lake.  
  
Sitting down at the base of a positively ancient elm tree, Draco surveyed the rest of the school. Students were lounging about. A group of ever-audacious Gryffindors was waddling by the lake, admiring the giant squid as it observed the adventurous group curiously.  
  
He didn't know why he felt the need for sunshine. His disposition was better suited for the evening, when shadows were cast and lengthened. Or for rainy days, the interminable gray in the sky overwhelming and calming at the same time. He knew that he didn't want to be part of fun in the sun as most of the others did. But he didn't feel like staying inside the castle either.  
  
It was just a strange day. It would take a little getting used to this year. First was sharing close living quarters with the annoying know- it-all Granger. Seriously! She just had the ability to get right under his bloody skin. Even on days when they didn't even exchange a glance.  
  
Then there was this utter rubbish about learning muggle discipline with the new DADA teacher. Professor Tara was probably more off her rocker than the batty Professor Trelawney, for all her composure and calm demeanor. Okey, he was willing to admit that her little demonstration in class had been impressive but what was the point? If the Death Eaters were coming for you, what good did it do if you could crumble rock with your bare hands? It wasn't like the Dark Lord was going to hurl a giant boulder at your head.  
  
"Like a young Orpheus, he sits under elm trees and charms the young lasses," Blaise's cheerful taunt rang loudly. If he was a little surprised at seeing Malfoy outside in the sun with his guitar, he kept his comment lighthearted.  
  
Draco snorted in amusement. He doubted he looked like a Greek God in the wilderness. In fact, he was more than willing to bet that the birds and gentle creatures of nature would much rather peck his eyes out than lie about peaceably at his feet. He just didn't irradiate goodness the way Saintly Potter did. "You're only bitter because if you brought out a drum, you'd end up looking like a poor drummer boy," Draco heckled back. Although it was very doubtful that Zabini could ever be mistaken as poor. Blaise was even more fastidious about his clothing than Draco was, although he had more of a flair for the eyecatching than Draco's demure elegance.  
  
"Too true. Not the most glamorous of impressions," Blaise agreed amiably, leaning against a neighboring oak tree. "Instead, you look like you're ready to serenade any girl you fancy."  
  
"Zabini, have you considered a career in public relations. You would make a brilliant manager," Draco answered derisively, although he spoke the truth. Zabini was always looking for the best angle, either for himself or for the circumstances he found himself in.  
  
"It pays to have the band I am in have a lead singer that all the girls are crazy for," Blaise said with a salacious grin. "Especially since he's a royal arse and the ever charming drummer is there to lend them a hand after their youthful dreams have been crushed mercilessly by their idol."  
  
Draco laughed at this. "You're full of it, aren't you? You probably enjoy exploiting them more than the actual sex, taking advantage of them in their vulnerable state."  
  
Blaise didn't answer, although an emotion flashed through his caramel eyes. "In either case, I was wondering what your impressions on our new DADA teacher were."  
  
Draco's lips twisted into a sardonic grin. Of course Zabini would not seek him out merely for the pleasure of his company, there was an ulterior motive to his visit. And as always, it was about information. In this case Zabini was merely doing his job. As the Prince of Slytherin, Draco would dictate the behavior of all other Slytherins in the DADA classes, approving or disapproving of the professor. Quite frankly though, he did not know what Professor Tara was all about. He remained silent for a few seconds try to think about what his actual impression of the Professor was.  
  
"I have to admit that her demonstration was quite interesting. One has to wonder what else she is capable of doing," Blaise said nonchalantly.  
  
"I have to agree with you on that Zabini," Draco responded in a blasé tone. "Perhaps we should wait and see what our Professor Tara is all about," he added blandly but with an arch of his eyebrows. He knew that Zabini would correctly interpret this gesture that the Slytherins were to appear courteous but not overly warm, but more importantly silent through this "examination" period of their teacher.  
  
"That would be a wise course of action," Zabini added with a nod of his head. Slytherins were not commended for their patience. They weren't Hufflepuffs. But they could be patient to an extent, while they assessed the enemy, potential threats and a situation for the best course of action. 'Cautious' was perhaps the better term.  
  
--------------------- ------------------------ -----------------------  
  
"That has to have been one of the more amazing classes I've ever been to," Ron said enthusiastically.  
  
"Of course, it also helps when the Professor is a very lovely and attractive female," Ginny said derisively, watching as her brother colored slightly.  
  
"That's entirely beside the point," Ron retorted hotly. "You should have seen her smash that boulder to smithereens!"  
  
Stories of the first DADA class and Professor Tara's small demonstration of her powers had spread throughout the school. All the other Houses and years were very keen on going to the DADA class. Especially the boys. Apparently, there was something supremely attractive about a woman that could crush rocks with her fists.  
  
"I'm very interested in her muggle teachings. Of course, she has already given us three chapters to read for tomorrow," Hermione said. Professor Tara had not been kidding when she said that the class would be extremely intensive given its dual nature. Hermione wasn't sure that Professor Tara was giving the NEWTS sufficient weight. But then again, the professor seemed more interested in training them to survive any number of disastrous scenarios.  
  
"I'm gonna sign up for her Survival Club. It seems like a good idea if other DA members do so," Harry said quietly. "I mean, she did bring up a few good points. It would be useful to know how to make a fire without magic or matches. Who knows what will happen? We have to be prepared for everything."  
  
Ron, Ginny and Hermione nodded solemnly at Harry. For a few minutes, they didn't say anything. They just lived in the moment. Despite the war that was brewing and their own doubts and concerns about how prepared they were to fight, it was a beautiful day. A true summer day, when the sun shone lazily over the ripples of the water and before the autumn cooled the winds to chilly. The shouts and screams of Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, Colin Creevey and a bunch of other Gryffindors by the lake could be heard throughout as they teased the giant squid. Students were stretched out on the grass, talking and carefree. So for the moment, the foursome just watched and listened to the rest of the school on a summer afternoon and cherished it for what it was.  
  
Ginny stretched out and put her head on Ron's lap. He smiled down at her, brotherly love infusing his face. He had come so close to losing her that first year. He was immensely thankful to Harry for saving her.  
  
Hermione put her head on Ginny's tummy and put her face up to the sun. She smiled at both Ginny and Ron. Ginny's tummy was a comfortable pillow and the sun was out and it was warm without being too hot.  
  
Harry just looked at them with his green eyes bright with intensity and smiled at the picture the three of them made.  
  
Hermione knew that Harry cherished these small moments, the moments that slip into the cracks of memory for most people because they are mundane and just seem to fill the days between the exciting parts of one's life. But for Harry, these were the moments worth living. Hermione was pretty sure that Harry would trade all his fame and exciting moments just to have his parents or Sirius back.  
  
----------- ----------------- ------------------------  
  
"They do make a quaint picture," Zabini commented with a bland voice, but there was a hint of a sparkle in his eyes.  
  
Draco followed with his gaze at what Zabini was looking at. Just the Golden Trio and Weaselette, sprawled on the grass like lions resting on a hot day in the African savannah. Almost made him want to take up lion hunting, he thought mirthlessly. Draco gave Zabini a gallic shrug. He really didn't give a rat's ass how pretty the Golden Trio looked, they were still a nuisance.  
  
He ignored the pang of longing that stabbed at him. He squelched it mercilessly, his face impassive. He didn't need to frolic in the grass with chums to be happy. The last thing he wanted was Zabini to think he was even remotely envious of the Golden Trio. Especially of Weasel King and The-Boy- That-Is-Most-Annoying. Or that he harbored some sort of secret fancy for the mouthy, prissy Granger.  
  
Despite how lovely she looked lying on the grass, her legs a golden tan, her mane of curls spread around her, smiling warmly, he certainly wasn't going to admit to even thinking she was anything other than a dirty mudblood.  
  
"The question is, a quaint picture of what?" Draco said sardonically, plucking at his guitar. He wasn't sure what Zabini was getting at precisely. Oddly enough, the last thing he felt like doing was encouraging Blaise to pursue Hermione solely to piss Pothead or Weasel off. He certainly couldn't picture both of them together.  
  
"I was hoping you would know," Blaise said in a not-so-innocent tone.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I do, but I don't feel like sharing," he said smugly.  
  
Blaise let out a long-suffering tragic sigh. He hated when Draco turned even more closemouthed. But he wasn't going to let out that he was interested in Ginny Weasley quite yet. That would be showing his hand before the play was over, and that was one thing Blaise did not do. He couldn't explain if it was merely intellectual curiosity or real attraction. Ginny Weasley was interesting if only for the fact that Voldemort had possessed her during his second year at Hogwarts. He literally had a score of question he was dying to ask her but hadn't had the opportunity yet, mainly because he had to wait until Draco was Slytherin Prince before he could even make a request to interrogate Ginny Weasley about the Dark Lord. And if he didn't ask this year, he would probably never have the chance to do so. He tried not to think about how he had this strange weakness for red hair.  
  
Draco looked amused at Blaise, and for the first time that day wondered what it is that Zabini was really trying to get at. 


	9. Chapter 9: Dobby's Visit

[Author's Notes:  
  
to Rebel Rikki: Blaise may or may not be staying as a boy. And as for a Blaise/Ginny thing, I think you'll just have to continue reading...  
  
to ProwlingKitKat and ColeForever16: I want to show that despite everything Harry and the gang are still teenagers. They might be able to perform magic spells and might have different customs, but they are essentially teenagers and still do normal human things as well.  
  
to the rest of my readers: I will update as soon as possible. Sometimes I get writer's block and I don't want to update merely for the sake of updating. I take pride in my work and don't want to post something that is sub-par. But yes, if you're reading this, you're in it for the long haul. This is going to be something of a long fiction work. I want to make this as plausible as possible. Enemies suddenly don't fall in love overnight.]  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 9: Dobby's Visit  
  
Draco strolled away from the Slytherin dungeons. He had finally been able to talk to his House Quidditch members after dinner. They had to replace one of their beaters Morgan Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson's older brother, since he graduated last year. Draco had posted that tryouts would be held next weekend for a new beater on the message board of their common room. Not that it was really necessary. After conferring with his team, he was sure that Jason Orrfield, a fifth year Slytherin would become the new beater. However, Draco felt that Orrfield needed a little competition so that he didn't get too big for his britches. Plus, it was an excellent opportunity for Orrfield to offer some 'extra persuasion' to Draco to assure himself of the position.  
  
He walked leisurely through the halls even though he knew he had a mountain of homework. Most of it were just readings to refresh students of their previous lessons, but Draco wanted to be in top-form this year. He knew he would have to almost micro-manage his time to be able to get all his studying done, all his duties as Head Boy and the unofficial business that came along with the position of being Slytherin Prince. He also supposed that he should, in the next few weeks, appoint who his seneschal would be, the sixth year that upon his graduation would ascend the position of power within the school hierarchy. He also knew that he was going to be extra competitive this year, sharing the common room with the Hogwarts number one bookworm would just be a constant reminder of how she continually bested him in academia. For once he wanted to be at the top of their class.  
  
He encountered a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls on his way to his dorm. They all gave him sidelong glances, and just gave them his trademark snarky look, his lower pouted out just a little as he smiled, looking at them sidelong, his long lashes featured prominently. Some of the girls blushed and giggled, others just lowered their eyes and smiled secretly at him. Draco knew he was one of the most desired boys on campus. Again, in a competition against the Saintly Potter. But unlike Potter, he certainly wasn't an awkward virgin that didn't know the first thing about pleasure. Despite his affinity with hedonism, Draco could temper his desires. He considered himself a connoisseur. He knew how to flatter, seduce and please a woman. He could be romantic if he wanted to; a good upbringing had given him a refined taste, immense wealth meant he could buy anything he wanted and his artistic proclivities made him appear sensitive enough. It also paid to be a Slytherin in the battle of the sexes. Unlike Gryffindors who just seemed to hope that blundering courage and panache could solve anything, Slytherins knew the needs, desires and preferences of their 'prey' before they even attempted the first move.  
  
"Good evening to you lad! I hope you had a good first day!" Adalbert's cheery voice hailed him as he neared the wizard's portrait.  
  
Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of the obviously flirtatious and cheery Wizard. Adalbert had been a truly gifted wizard, a genius of his time. It probably wasn't in his best interest to be at complete odds with the portrait that secured the entrance to his living quarters. Especially since one-third of the Golden Trio already resided inside. Draco certainly didn't want Pothead and Weasel on chummy terms with Adalbert.  
  
"Just a long day," Draco said with a shrug, hitching the strap of his book bag a little further up. He hoped that the wizard did not confuse his statement with the desire for a long conversation. The last thing Draco wanted to do was serve as a conversation partner to a portrait.  
  
Adalbert chuckled sympathetically at Draco's statement. It stood to reason that most other Head Boys and Girls had probably complained about the rigorous course work and their additional responsibilities. And the truth was, there were going to be very long days ahead. "It's alright my boy. You have a visitor waiting for you inside," he added with an affable grin.  
  
"Bathilda Bagshot," Draco said taking the opportunity to leave before the portrait could engage him in a lengthy dialogue. He had been instantly curious about who could be waiting for him inside. He simply hadn't questioned the portrait because he didn't want to talk to the wizard. Draco always preferred to find things out for himself.  
  
No sooner did he step inside that he saw a house elf, clad in a lime- green shirt, black shorts and mismatched socks. The elf hadn't noticed his entrance, as he was busy looking around and poking about the stuff that lay in the common room. Draco almost couldn't believe his eyes. Of course, he had heard the story that other house elves had muttered and that Lucius had squelched at the merest breath of. "Dobby?" he asked, a little unsure.  
  
"Garçon Draco!" Dobby said with a squeak as he turned around, his big eyes sparkling. Part of Draco heartened at Dobby's address, he hadn't been called that in a long time. Most of the house elves that remained called him "Master Draco", a title that reminded him too much of Lucius.  
  
"It's been a long time Dobby," Draco answered neutrally. I mean, what did one say to an ex-family house elf? Especially one that he knew his father had continuously abused. Not that he was ready to join bloody Granger on her ruddy crusade about house elf rights. He simply didn't see the point of abusing a house elf the way his father did. It was akin to abusing a prize thoroughbred or dog. It was mere idiodicy. House elves were a precious commodity. But how do you act when said commodity is no longer in your possession? The entire situation was just extremely awkward. _Bugger_, he thought. He had no clue what to do.  
  
"Dobby is a free elf now, sir," Dobby explained, a mixture of defiance and apology in his voice. "Famous Harry Potter saved Dobby! And now Dobby works at Hogwarts. For pay!"  
  
Draco digested all this information. After a while, he had noted Dobby's disappearance but he had wisely not questioned Lucius about it. Especially if Harry Potter had managed to liberate Dobby. He could very well imagine his father in an apoplectic rage over the mere mention of Dobby and Draco was not foolhardy or stupid enough to deliberately incur his father's wrath. He would have never guessed that Dobby had been working here at Hogwarts. But then again, he really didn't pay attention to the house elves here at school, mainly because they remained incredibly invisible. And the times he, Crabbe and Goyle or Zabini had nicked down to the kitchens for a late night snack he had never seen Dobby. But Dobby's remarks seemed to require an answer. "I see," he said slowly._ Fool, what kind of comment is that?_ He mentally berated himself. All his poise and manners and that was the best he could come up with?  
  
Dobby just nodded his head and continued to speak. "Dobby knew that Garçon Draco was here, but Garçon Draco never came to see Dobby. And Dobby didn't want to get in trouble. Dobby thought it was best if Dobby stayed away. But Dobby heard that Garçon Draco was made Head Boy... and Dobby wanted to congratulate Garçon Draco," the house elf said quickly, almost as if he was afraid and embarrassed. His big liquid eyes looked expectantly at Draco.  
  
Now, Draco felt distinctively uncomfortable. Despite everything, it was obvious that Dobby held at least a tiny bit of attachment to him. Well, after all, he had grown up with Draco. Although Draco had not been outwardly abusive, he knew he hadn't been the kindest of masters either. His rather dormant conscience raised its head and gave him a nip at the heels but Draco kept his impassive façade. "Well, yes, thank you," Draco said almost stiffly.  
  
"Dobby also wanted to say that the Head Boy and Head Girl can have drinks and some leftovers brought up to their quarters and that Dobby will be in charge of that. You just have to call out for Dobby and Dobby will be here as fast as Dobby can, sir," Dobby added. Although Dobby didn't look overjoyed, his eyes had kept shining when Draco had thanked him.  
  
This was a nice perk for being Head Boy in Draco's opinion. Thanking a house elf twice was something almost alien to him and the words stuck to his throat. Draco settled for nodding his head. He couldn't be outwardly rude to Dobby here at school. After all, he was a free elf, one that was receiving wages. He especially didn't want to be hauled off to Dumbledore's office for a lecture on his attitude towards house elves. That man was positively gooey when it came to bleeding heart crusades like house elf rights or some other such nonsense.  
  
"If there is nothing else Garçon Draco needs at the moment, Dobby will head back to the kitchens, sir," Dobby said, excusing himself.  
  
The phrase brought memories back to Draco, of a happier time in his life, when he still believed in happiness. The memories were always blurry, like an impressionist painting. He didn't remember details, just a few vivid flashes here and there. His mother's hair in the sunlight, his dog sleeping on the rug, Dobby sneaking him sweets between meals. Still, he wasn't impervious to them. No matter how hard he tried to be. "Dobby," he said softly.  
  
Dobby turned around, looking at Draco with his liquid eyes.  
  
"It's good to see you," Draco said, almost without realizing what he was saying. The words seemed to slide out of him, like the way sunlight slides through the surface of things. Part of Draco berated him for feeling such an emotion over an emancipated house elf. He was going soft! He was a Malfoy! He shouldn't go all emotional over a ruddy servant. Another part of Draco, one that remained hidden and forgotten in a corner of his being, however, had meant it. If only for the sake of happier times, when he was younger.  
  
Dobby knew that Draco now was different from the child that he had snuck sweets to. He was also very different from the prepubescent Draco, who had swallowed his father's indoctrination whole. Dobby just gave Draco a brilliant smile before disappearing.  
  
Draco stood there for a minute before he turned his attention to his studies. He hadn't thought that this day could get any stranger, but it had. Dobby's visit just proved it. Draco considered just calling it a day and going to sleep. Today just couldn't get any more bizarre.  
  
Later, Draco would reflect that he should have known better. Because life is a bitch and just likes to fuck with you when you think you know what's going on. And yes, life can and does get more bizarre than that.  
  
----------------------- ---------------------- --------------------------  
  
By the time Hermione Granger made it back to her common room, she found Draco buried in his schoolwork, books open and scribbling on a piece of parchment on the Eastern side of the room, which had an underlying Slytherin motif. She was mildly surprised at his arduousness, but he was Head Boy after all. She was just so used to thinking that Malfoy bought his way through, like his position in his House Quidditch team. It was a bit disconcerting to think that Malfoy earned something. He certainly acted like he didn't give a damn. Except when she beat him of course. Then he always had something to say to her. Bloody Mudblood bookworm bitch, to be precise, she thought a little bitterly. He really took every opportunity he could to berate her. She certainly hoped that he would honor their little agreement. She didn't know if she could handle sharing quarters with him otherwise. And she was fond of her Head Girl position.  
  
He looked up at her with eyes that seem to go straight through her and just lowered his head back to continue studying. Hermione was relieved and insulted. She didn't like being ignored. But this was Malfoy in question, so perhaps silence was the best way to maintain civility. She couldn't very well expect him to greet her as if they were mates or even chums.  
  
She sat down at the other desk and began with her DADA homework. Professor Tara had already assigned them three chapters that were due tomorrow. Professor Vector had assigned a number of arithmancy problems to limber up their minds from the summer. Professor Sprout had hinted very strongly that they should review the second chapter of their Herbology book because they would have a quiz tomorrow and Professor Flitzwick had already assigned them a two foot essay on fire charms due this Friday. Not to mention that Professor McGonagall had asked to think about a topic for their research essay of the semester.  
  
Perhaps it was the sight of Draco studying that also spurred the competitive edge in Hermione. She was the resident scholar in the Gryffindor Tower. Everyone in her year had already given up trying to keep up with her. The younger years simply didn't count. Besides, it was nice to have someone else that seemed to take their studies as seriously as she did. Even if it was Malfoy.  
  
She sneaked a peek at how he was doing. In the light of the common room, with his platinuum hair falling around his eyes, he would occasionally run his hand through it to push it back. They really looked white silk strands. She remembered her mother's wedding dress that was hanging in her parent's closet, carefully wrapped in tissue paper and in garment bag. She had never told her mom that she had sneaked a peek when she was eight and touched the delicate fabric. It had been like rubbing a pearl between her fingers, so cool and smooth to the touch. She had imagined what she would look like wearing it. Her mother was saving the dress for Hermione to wear in her wedding day, and like every little girl in the world, Hermione had imagined how that day would be. Of course, that was before she become serious about her studies and given up foolish daydreaming. Of course she would get married. Of course she would wear her mother's dress. She didn't need to dream or think about the event. It would happen. End of bloody story.  
  
It wasn't like she had a serious boyfriend anyway. Even if she did, this wasn't the time to be thinking about long term commitments and romance. There was a war underfoot. She was part of Harry's support system. People were counting on her to be the most informed and prepared. Even when she wasn't as courageous as Harry was, which was a good thing because Harry had been up against Voldemort a ridiculous amount of times already, she was still expected to have a measure of the Gryffindor bravado. More importantly, she was needed to keep things together. Really, what Harry most needed from his friends was not blindly throwing themselves into the fray but to stay calm, collected and make the right decision under fire. More lives were saved through cool intellect than through reckless shows of courage.  
  
"If there is something you want to say Granger, just spit it out. I can feel you boring a hole through my skull," Draco's voice interrupted her musings. She was slightly embarrassed that he had caught her looking in his direction. Not that she had actually been looking at him. If Harry and Ron had been there, they would have recognized that she had been merely lost in thought.  
  
"I can understand that I am devilishly good-looking and absurdly handsome, as I'm sure you have well noticed. But really Granger! I thought you were more studious than that!" Draco drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice. It absolutely infuriated Hermione and galvanized her into action. How dare he insinuate that she would rather stare at him than study! So, maybe she had noticed how silky his hair was... but it was merely a casual observation. Anyone could have done that. It was like suddenly noticing a little detail about a painting you have always had hanging in your room. Most of the time you don't even really see it. Except for those occasional moments where a detail just happens to catch your eye.  
  
"Your sheer arrogance is dumbfounding, Malfoy. I wasn't looking at you, I just happened to be deep in thought," Hermione retorted angrily. She really had been. She wasn't going to explain herself to this annoying little ferret. That's a complete misnomer, he didn't look like a ferret anymore. He had grown out of his pointed face. His face was full of strong clean lines, an aristocratic nose a little on the long side, and deep penetrating eyes. After all, he was one of the hottest guys in Hogwarts. A ferret was a lot of things. Hot wasn't one of them. Not that she thought he was hot. Not at all. But she could see how how others could find him appealing.  
  
He turned to look at her, an almost pleasant smile on his face and Hermione, for a panicked moment thought that he could actually read her mind. "Deep in thought? About me? I never knew you felt that way Granger!" he mocked, his gray eyes glinting.  
  
Hermione could feel her face heating with anger. _He was an absolute prat!_ More importantly, there wasn't enough room for both of them and his ego. _The garbage that spewed from his mouth!_ Hermione certainly wasn't going to admit that, even in a moment of utter weakness, she had actually thought about him in a rather flattering light. She was Hermione Granger, she wasn't immune to hormones but she wasn't going to let them dictate her thoughts either! She counted, mentally, to ten before answering him.  
  
"Malfoy, obviously your reality and mine intersect at some point because we are sitting in the same room. However, please keep your delusions to yourself. I was merely thinking about how to arrange my homework schedule with the patrols that we have to do," she said frostily. Ha! Take that! She thought. She was pleased with her answer, she sounded intelligent and mature. But more importantly, that she was taking both her studies AND her Head Girl duties seriously.  
  
However, Draco appeared unruffled and even amused by her answer. "Sounds like you are having trouble managing your schoolwork and Head Girl duties. We patrol from 10 until 11, every night. There isn't much juggling necessary really. I can understand if the burden of responsibility can be too much to handle," he said, his voice completely insincere.  
  
_How dare he insinuate that she wasn't capable of managing this!_ She, who had taken almost all of the courses available her third year, could deal with this. No need to mention that she had a miserable time that year and had been helped by a time-turner. But still! And this definitely did not fall into civil conversation. "I thought you wanted to maintain civil conversation," she said stiffly. And wondered how much blood would spurt from splitting those lovely luscious lips of his. Hermione wanted to smack herself. Luscious lips? Well, actually, they were. Malfoy's mouth was decidedly sensual, even in a sneer. Hermione wanted to take her DADA book and bash it against her forehead. She was obviously suffering from brain damage.  
  
Draco laughed, a low and masculine sound that seemed to vibrate around her. "What are you thinking Granger?" he mused. "This is as civil as we're ever bloody going to get."  
  
Hermione wanted to sigh from relief. If Malfoy was going to act like this all ruddy school year then she would have no problems dealing with him. She looked straight into his eyes for a moment before she turned back to her DADA reading.  
  
--------------------- ----------------------- -------------------------  
  
They returned from patrol silently. They hadn't spoken much during the patrol, mainly just informing each other where the other would be patrolling and agreeing to meet by the stairway leading to the Owlery before heading back to their common room together. Adalbert had been sleeping when they arrived and Draco merely rapped on the frame and spoke the password before the wizard had the chance to engage either of them a conversation. Although the old coot had winked at Granger before the frame swung open. Draco had wanted to roll his eyes. He really couldn't imagine Granger flirting with anyone.  
  
She had been very curt and cold with him after their brief conversation in the common room. He had actually congratulated himself on his restraint. Seriously, what did that annoying bint think? Merely because they had a very tenuous agreement to be civil to one another didn't mean that overnight, they were going to best chums. The conversation had actually been amusing. Especially when her face had become flushed. He knew that she had been lost in thought but he couldn't resist needling her about it.  
  
But at the moment he was a little tired and a little cold. Summer was dying, her breath becoming cooler. The night had been clear but not as balmy as the week before. And Hogwarts passages were notoriously drafty. He could definitely go in for a cup of cocoa or hot cider.  
  
"Dobby!" he said in a loud voice impulsively, remembering what the house elf had told him earlier that morning.  
  
Granger looked at him startled. Draco was about to say something when Dobby appeared and interrupted him.  
  
"Garçon Draco!" Dobby squeaked out excitedly. "What can Dobby do for you?"  
  
"Just a cup of hot apple cider and maybe some more apple dumplings, if there are any left,'" Draco answered. It really felt like old times. Dobby had always been unfailingly cheery around him and had followed his orders with alacrity, particularly those concerning food.  
  
"Miss Hermione Granger! Dobby knew you would be Head Girl! Miss Hermione is the smartest witch at Hogwarts and a great friend of Harry Potter and house elves all over the world. What can Dobby do for you?" Dobby asked, turning his attention toward Granger.  
  
"Malfoy! He's no longer your fucking house elf! You have absolutely no bloody right to order him around!" Granger screeched at him. Draco winced. She really had an impressive set of lungs. Perhaps she had a banshee ancestor. That screech had been positively frightful. Even Dobby had to cover his ears and Dobby's hearing was infinitely more delicate than his own. By God! Granger's screech had pierced right through his brain.  
  
"Granger, stop your ruddy yelling! I thought we agreed to be civil. Besides, your screechs affect Dobby very negatively," Draco said coldly. The woman was positively daft and a harridan. If it hurt Draco's ears, he could only imagine the pain that Dobby was experiencing. Something told Draco that she cared more about the house elf's pain than his. More importantly, he didn't want to watch Dobby punishing himself. It was something he had never gotten used to, seeing something as lowly as a house elf deliberately harm itself in penance. Plus, he really didn't want to trigger Dobby's memories of abuse he had suffered under Lucius. He didn't like to think about it and all he had done was witness the blasted events.  
  
Granger glared mutinously at him. Draco wanted to sigh in exasperation. Bloody Gryffindors. So willing to jump at the supposed plight of the weak without ever bothering to find out if this was more harmful than helpful.  
  
"Oh no! Miss Hermione don't yell at Garçon Draco!" Dobby said, his demeanour becoming anxious, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Dobby is here to serve the Head Boy and Girl. It is one of the privileges of the position. Does Miss Hermione want a nice cup of cocoa? How about some chocolate éclairs?"  
  
Granger turned her attention to Dobby and her demeanor changed almost completely to reassure Dobby. "Yes, that would be wonder. Thank you Dobby. I hope this isn't too much of a bother," she said almost pleasantly, with a smile. Draco could hear and see the strains and knew that she was still angry. He had training since young, knew how to recognize the signs. It had been a critical skill to survive in the Malfoy Manor He could also tell that she didn't want to upset the house elf unnecessarily. Draco was momentarily jealous as her considerations. She was considerate to a house elf, albeit a freed one, but he wasn't even entitled to a fourth of that respect or civility.  
  
"It's no problem Miss Hermione. This is what Dobby is for," Dobby said with a limpid smile before he disappeared to the kitchens.  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?" Granger demanded almost as soon as Dobby was gone, her voice becoming more strident. Draco was amazed at her mercurial temperament. No wonder she and Weasel and Pothead were fighting constantly.  
  
"You never asked. And before I could say anything you accused me of mistreating Dobby," he said frostily. He really was angry with her. She had jumped down his throat at the first chance. Hadn't even bothered giving him a chance to explain himself. "I thought you Gryffindors believed that people were innocent until proven guilty," he added, chastising her.  
  
Her face colored at his words. He knew he had struck dead center. She was always so proud about doing the right thing, even if it meant breaking a few rules. Always holding the higher moral road. Draco wanted to rub his hands gleefully and gloat. He certainly had put her in her place and it felt great. Goddamn uppity holier-than-thou Granger! Who was superior now?  
  
"I apologize for jumping to conclusions," she said stiffly. Draco wanted to stare at her face. It looked like she had to eat humble pie and crow at the same time with her bloody foot in her mouth. Looking at her though, Draco could no longer gloat. He knew what it is to have pride and what it took to humble one's self. Especially to someone you hated. Again, his conscience rose up to nip at his heels for the second time today. Draco stuffed it back into the trunk it had escaped from. Besides, it was the second time this year that Granger had apologized to him and he was feeling gracious.  
  
"Apology accepted Granger," he said loftily. If looks were as effective as Avdra Kedavra, he would have been dead a long time ago. He wisely left it at that.  
  
Before any of them could say anything else, Dobby appeared with their snacks. 


	10. Chapter 10: Pretty and Sexy

[Author Notes: Sorry for the delay. I've been busy.]  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR. The modified lyrics belong to REM's "What's the Frequency Kenneth?" which happens to be one of my favorite REM songs.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 10: Pretty and Sexy  
  
"Alright then, from the top once more, and then we'll break," Draco said. Although he had some vocal training, he was getting tired. Maybe it had been the Quidditch practice earlier that day. But since Granger had agreed to let them practice in the common room, Draco was unwilling to give up this opportunity to jam together. They were basically running through their old set, refreshing their minds and memories of what it was like to play together after the summer apart.  
  
Boots let the bass start and Zabini and Pucey joined in while Draco sang his heart out.  
  
_"What's the emergency, Albus?"  
I'm sure things can change.  
I was brain-dead, locked out, numb, not up to speed  
I thought I'd pegged you in the extreme  
Tunnel vision from an outsider's scheme  
I never understood the emergency  
You wore our expectations in and up and down_  
  
_ I'd studied your runes, credo, music, plea, moves, guarantees  
Snape said, "Withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy"  
A smile like the buffoon, tooth for a truth  
You said that irony was the shackles of youth  
You wore a shirt of violent green  
I never understood that we could change_  
  
_"What's the emergency, Albus?" is your medicine  
Butterfly, dragon, in the middle, dogging the scene  
You smile like the buffoon, truth for a tooth  
You said that irony was the shackles of youth  
You are a sun, violent rays and all  
I never understood that we can't change  
You wore our expectations like an armored suit_  
  
_ I don't understand  
You said that irony was the shackles of you  
I couldn't understand  
You wore a shirt of violent green  
I can understand  
I never understood, don't fuck with me"_  
  
The song had an almost hypnotic bass, the beat moved at a moderate clip and it was immensely popular with the school. He and Zabini had cowrote it after they heard Boots improvising on his guitar. Were they poking fun at Dumbledore? Just a little. But they weren't really say anything with the song, there was no hidden agenda or political message. Although there could be. Zabini had insisted on making it deliberately ambiguous and seeing what interpretations you got back. It never failed to amuse him.  
  
Draco always thought of Blaise in masculine terms, although he was sporting a female form at the moment. With long hair in pigtails, wearing male black/white board shorts that came to his knees, a black bikini top and black muggle sneakers, Zabini looked more like he was ready for a day in an Australian beach, surfing, than practicing on the drums. But Draco knew how much Zabini sweated behind the drums. Hell, anyone sweated playing drums.  
  
"Can we smoke in here?" Terry asked Draco, taking off his guitar strap.  
  
Draco shook his head to signal 'no'. He could not imagine the row he would have with Granger if she came in and found out that they had been smoking. She would probably let out another of those banshee screeches and prohibit them from ever practicing in the common room ever again. Well, Draco didn't smoke because it limited his vocal range. Pucey and Boots were the real smoke fiends, often going through packs of muggle and wizard cigarettes. Draco didn't understand the fascination with smoking. Not that he was opposed to smoking a cigar once in a while, but smoking a cigar was not the same as continuously inhaling cigarette smoke. "Outside on the balcony," he said.  
  
Both Terry and Daniel got their cigarettes and waited for Draco to show them through his room and out to his balcony. Blaise followed and went to the bathroom in search of a towel. He returned with a damp towel across his shoulders. His skin shone with sweat, and everyone could see the beads of sweat drip down his chest and between a pair of medium sized breasts. Draco and Pucey were used to Zabini's antics but he knew that Boots was at least mildly disconcerted. Draco certainly didn't want to be staring at Zabini's breasts, but he was male. He had to at least acknowledge them. So Draco did and put it out of his mind entirely.  
  
"So what's it like? Living with the resident Know-It-All?" Daniel said after taking a drag.  
  
Draco shrugged. He really didn't see Granger that much. Mostly in class, the daily patrols and the weekly prefect meeting. They still shared the common room but half the time he was either inside his room or she was gone to the library. Two weeks had passed and they had settled into something of a routine. She would shower in the morning and he would shower before class and after Quidditch practice, which sometimes meant showering twice a day. He didn't know if she was purposefully avoiding him. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like they were friends. And hadn't he gone weeks without talking to Granger before? Of course, they hadn't shared close quarters before. They had minor squabbles but Granger had taken to simply not saying anything and it wasn't any fun to argue with someone that just wasn't willing to argue back.  
  
"This place," Terry started to say with a shake of his head, "it's better than any of the dorms. And you even have frigging room service." He took another drag as he looked at the spectacular view from the balcony, overlooking the Southern side of the castle, a great view of the valley.  
  
Dobby, at Draco's behest, had brought them pumpkin juice and a couple butterbeers as well as some snacks to have while they practiced. Dobby was summoned usually after patrols but Draco always found a glass of pumpkin juice and an apple whenever he entered his room after class. The first time Draco had been startled that Dobby remembered that particularly detail from the Manor and would even continue it. Draco reminisced for a full ten minutes before he actually drank his juice.  
  
"You should know by now Boots that if you stay in my band that there would always be superior quality service," Draco drawled, a not-so-subtle hint about Slytherin power. Pucey, Zabini and Malfoy were all respected names within the Wizarding community, not to mention exceedingly wealthy. Despite the smearing his family name had taken because of Lucius, there were very few families that would openly reject the Malfoy name, mainly because of the wealth and connections it commanded.  
  
Terry merely raised his eyebrows and gave them a half–grin. Before he could say anything, Crookshanks made his appearance by coming from behind them and rubbing up against Draco's leg. All of them looked down to see the source of the purring and Crookshanks merely gave them all a feline grin and continued to harass Draco to be petted.  
  
"I didn't know you had a cat," Zabini said with raised eyebrows, the only strain that his face showed. He couldn't believe he hadn't known this. Besides, how impossible was it to never notice a cat? _Especially one as ugly as that one!_ Not that he would ever say so to Draco. The last time he had insulted one of the Malfoy pets, Draco had unleashed the hounds on him and chased him around the Manor. He had only been saved from being severely mauled because his mother and Narcissa Malfoy had decided to investigate the source of all the barking.  
  
Draco could almost laugh. Zabini was probably about to shit a brick. This was absolutely hilarious. Zabini prided himself in having the best powers of observation and the ability to obtain information. To have missed that Draco had a cat was probably killing him. He could tell that Pucey and Boots were also very amused.  
  
"Shit Draco. I would have thought you could afford a better looking cat,"  
  
Terry said, a little derision in his voice.  
  
A subtle tension in Draco's demeanor meant that he had taken the insult a little too personally. "Are you implying Boots that the cat is ugly?" he drawled blandly, but those trained to listen to the nuances in Draco's speech knew that he was more dangerous in his blandness than when he was blatantly angry.  
  
Blaise and Daniel exchanged a look without Terry noticing and both of them relaxed a little more to enjoy the show. Draco was gonna rake Terry through the coals and he wouldn't notice it until it was too late.  
  
Terry looked to see everyone relatively relaxed, despite his audacious comment. He took his cue from Blaise and Daniel who seemed to be amused at the entire situation. Looking back on the incident, Terry would realized that it was for entirely different reasons than the ones he thought. Thinking that his temerity had pleased Draco while taking him down a few pegs, although a contradiction, pleased Terry.  
  
"I'm not implying. Just look at it! It's ugly!" Terry continued, gesticulating with the still burning cigarette.  
  
"It is," Draco nodded in agreement with glinting. "However, I am mildly insulted that you or anyone could believe that this is my cat. As a Malfoy, we take pride in the best. This cat is not the best."  
  
He heard Crookshanks hiss and narrow its eyes at him. Draco should have known that the cat would take offense to his comment. In the last two weeks he had ample opportunity to study the cat and its habits, the most annoying one being its daily naps in his bed. He was perpetually ridding himself of orange hairs from his robes and his linens. He also noted that the cat was particularly ill-tempered. _Very much like his owner_, Draco thought with a scowl.  
  
Terry saw Draco scowl and knew he had made a mistake.  
  
"Malfoy, I meant no offense. If that's not your cat, whose is it?" Terry asked quickly.  
  
"Granger's," Zabini divined with a smile parting his pout and a clearing his expression. He felt positively light headed. He hadn't been missed a thing in the Slytherin dungeons. Draco had merely wanted to toy with him.  
  
"Correct," Draco made the word a clipped note.  
  
"What is Granger's pussycat doing in your room?" Pucey asked with raised eyebrows, insinuating that there was something more going on between them.  
  
Draco smiled frostily. He couldn't very well let other Slytherins think that he was going soft and being friendly with a Gryffindor, much less a mudblood. Their very uneven truce was also unspoken. In the past two weeks, they shared their common room and bathroom like if it were a minefield. They also ignored each other. Draco didn't like being ignored. Although he was glad that he could do his homework uninterrupted, he also knew that Granger made it a point not to speak to him, even when he heard her muttering to herself. He wasn't going to be the first one to break the wall of silence either. She would cave in before he did. He had practice holding his tongue. She practically jumped at a teacher's question and blabbered about the answer.  
  
It was one thing to have sex with a mudblood, another to be friends with one in the Slytherin school of thought. More importantly, Pucey was in no position within the hierarchy to make those insinuations. Draco gave Zabini slight leniency because he was such a power player and the information broker, and Zabini could have gotten away with it. But Pucey was out of line.  
  
"Not that it's any of your business," Draco said with a smile that was more teeth than pleasant and a not quite so subtle reminder that Pucey's question was out of line. "The blasted thing seems to like me. And as much as I would like to obliviate it into nothingness, I don't particularly want to lose my position as Head Boy over something as trivial as a pussycat."  
  
"So what's it like? Living with Granger?" Zabini asked, the underlying amusement was easy to detect.  
  
Draco snorted. He didn't think he was living with Granger. Hell, he couldn't think he ever actually lived. It's hard to describe what life as a Slytherin was like to non-Slytherins. It was equally as difficult to describe what life as a Malfoy should be, even to other Slytherins. Zabini might understand with some of the same expectations placed upon him. But Zabini's father was not Lucius. More important, Zabini, as far as Draco knew had never been continuously and constantly treated like a failure. Pucey might understand him better in that aspect but he wasn't fucking going to reveal that Lucius was less than proud of him. He certainly was never going to admit that his father considered him something of a disappointment and a failure under circumstances other than a Cruciatus curse. Of course, every Slytherin knew that his father was less than pleased about certain things, especially in those younger years but then again Lucius was not known to be a particularly pleasant man.  
  
More importantly, there really wasn't something to say about sharing quarters with Granger. They basically lived separate lives apart from their duties as Head Boy and Girl. Outside the bubble of their living quarters, their enmity was still legendary. The sneers, the taunts, the cold looks still continued. Of course, both sides were a little more banked, a little more cautious from upsetting anyone too seriously. The brewing war made everyone a little more conscious of sparking a battle prematurely. But every slight was duly noted and retribution was to be expected. Perhaps not immediately, but soon.  
  
Despite their lack of interaction, there were little things that he had come to learn about Granger. She was fond of her mangy ragamuffin cat. She took her studies seriously, almost too seriously for Draco's liking. She liked to shower first in the mornings. She wore simple scents that wafted after her, an innocent and alluring trail after her. He certainly wasn't going to disclose how nice the little mousy bookworm smelled or how deeply he inhaled once he walked into the bathroom. He also noticed that she wore her school skirts at a very becoming length, stopping at midthigh, exposing just a few tantalizing inches before the beginning of her knee high socks. But on weekends and other moments, she preferred to wear muggle jeans and those hugged a very pert bottom. Not that Draco had been fancying her ass, it was just eye candy. Sort of like the same way he noted Zabini's breasts. It was noted and filed away.  
  
But there were things he couldn't so easily dismiss. Like the way she would lightly bite her lower lip when she was deep in concentration, considering a homework problem. Her face intense and glowing, her hair a tumbling around her, she was arresting. If he were a cat, he would feel the necessity to bask in her. Since he wasn't a cat, he merely forced himself to tear his eyes away and bludger less than academic thoughts into oblivion.  
  
"She's an annoying upstart prissy bookworm banshee. Woman has got a screech that can flatten a man at ten paces. No wonder she's still a virgin," Draco drawled as he noticed that he had taken more than the necessary few moments to answer Zabini's question.  
  
"How do you know that she is a virgin?" Zabini asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.  
  
"Merlin! Zabini are you bloody daft? Can you imagine anyone wanting to do her?" Draco grumbled annoyed. He didn't like that twinkling in Zabini's eyes. Reminded him too much of Dumbledore's twinkly little eyes. And it was a sure sign of trouble. Another sign of trouble was picturing Granger biting that lower lip of hers as she tried to restrain herself from moaning out his name. Damn Zabini and his insinuations! It was all his bloody fault!  
  
"I would," Terry said without thinking, and then he realized what he said. _Damn, it was his day to continuously shove his foot inside his mouth, wasn't it?_ Trying to salvage himself he tried to explain. "I mean, I can imagine others that would. Viktor Krum certainly had something for her. She's pretty. Not like mindblowing attractive but enough that you don't have to put a paper bag over her head, you know? And you wouldn't have to worry about other guys hitting on her. And she's smart. Plus, there's that quality of snagging her from under Potter's and Weasley's noses. She's a challenge. Some guys dig challenges," he said quickly.  
  
Draco could almost feel his jaw dropping to the ground. _Boots found Granger attractive?_ Not just shaggable but attractive enough to date! What the hell was wrong with the world?  
  
"I have to agree with Boots on this one. She's pretty. But more to the point, she's a challenge. There is the entire virgin deal. But on top of that, you have to steal her from Potter and Weasley. But if you do, well man, you've got the biggest bollocks in school and people respect that," Pucey said.  
  
Everyone turned their head and dropped their jaws. _Pucey thought Granger was pretty!_ Draco felt like he had walked through the mirror and went down the rabbit hole at the same time. He wanted to bash his head against the wall. The last five minutes of conversation had not happened. He was stuck in some sort of alternate reality. Granger was not attractive! Could nobody see what she was? Just another annoying mudblood bitch! No one was supposed to notice or think that she was pretty!  
  
Draco continued to ignore the niggling voice in the back of head that continued to taunt him saying that he did think that Granger was pretty.  
  
---------------- ----------------- ------------------------  
  
"So Hermione! Spill the beans! Completely! Don't you dare leave a detail out!" Lavender Brown had pounced on her the moment she stepped into the Gryffindor common room. She and Parvati had swooped down on her like a pair of rapacious vultures and dragged her away from the common room to their room.  
  
"Where is Harry? Ron? Ginny?" Hermione asked with a panicky voice, asking for one of her closer friends to try and get out of what promised to be a hideously torturous gossip session.  
  
"They have Quidditch practice. It should be over soon. So you'll just have to stay here and wait for them," Parvati said sweetly, an amused twinkle in her eye.  
  
"Oh! In that case, I could just walk down to the Quidditch pitch," Hermione started to say quickly.  
  
"Don't be silly Hermione. By the time you get there, they will be done and you'll just have to walk all the way back here. Besides, you have barely spent any time with us. Honestly, one would think that we weren't friends anymore because you don't want to spend time with us. We've barely seen you since classes started," Lavender said with a feigned hurt look in her eyes.  
  
Hermione wanted to groan. She had been neatly and efficiently cornered. And she couldn't think of a way out. And the by the satisfied looks on both Lavender and Parvati, they knew this as well. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate Lavender and Parvati. Despite them being somewhat vapid and too boycrazy for her likes, they were somewhat friends. Equally as important, they were some of the biggest gossips in school. Which in this case, was also equally as dangerous. She knew that both of the girls wanted to hear about Draco Malfoy. So she decided that her only way to escape a head on collision with scandal was to hopefully manage to stall them until she was rescued.  
  
"We are friends," Hermione said in a placating tone.  
  
Lavender and Parvati sensed their prey weakening. Their smiles broadened. "Of course. So you should have no problem confiding in us," Lavender said soothingly.  
  
"Confide what? You've known me since the first year! I don't have any secrets," Hermione said, deliberately misunderstanding them.  
  
Parvati's eyes narrowed slightly but their smiles didn't fade. "Puh- leaze! Hermione! You're the only one with this unique opportunity! So tell us. What's he like?" Parvati said.  
  
"Oh, you know Harry. He's trying not to let things get to him. I think he's grown a few inches this summer," Hermione babbled on, with her most innocent face on, trying to repress the smirk she felt when she saw the a thin line of a frown begin to appear on Lavender's brow.  
  
"Not Harry! We know about Harry! Give us the dirt on Malfoy!" Lavender said, her voice still in a somewhat soothing tone, although there was a trace of irritation.  
  
"Goodness! He's just a snarky git. Everyone knows that. Malfoy is a ferret and always will be!" Hermione said in a tone, trying to act disgusted. Not that she hadn't seen a different side of Malfoy these last few weeks. She was trying desperately trying not to think on how he had chastised her twice. The second time had been even more humiliating than the first time. _Malfoy – 2; Hermione – 0_, she thought glumly. And she was still perturbed of the time that she had been caught in his room. It was one thing to feel his presence in a crowded hall or room. It was an entirely new game in a bed room by themselves. She assured herself that she merely had been frightened at being with him in a room together because he was such a rat bastard, probably a Death Eater already and would hex her brains out. She definitely hadn't expected him to be mature and slick and offer her a truce, however uneasy and shaky.  
  
But she would rather be caught riding a Hypogriff after curfew and face expulsion before she even dared breathe the slightest hint to Parvati or Lavender that she didn't think that Malfoy was anything but an absolute prat. She would have never thought that Malfoy would have been capable of a truce, muchless with a Gryffindor and even less to a muggle-born witch. It just made her suspicious. Dumbledore would probably be interested in any information she could obtain. She told her that was the only reason she was so keen on keeping an eye on Malfoy. She definitely wasn't interested in seeing if Malfoy was human after all.  
  
"And isn't he sublime? And when he wears those black dragon pants of his. Merlin! He has the best bum I've ever seen," Lavender gushed enthusiastically.  
  
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes in disgust. Not that she hadn't observed that the black dragon pants made Malfoy look sexier. Now she did make a little sound of disgust in the back of her throat. She didn't want to think of Malfoy as sexy to begin with. Never mind that she had seen him walk in after Quidditch practice a number of times, all rumpled and muddied and looking completely shaggable. Seeing how he preferred to be utterly impeccable most of the time, to see him in a less than perfect state made him approachable. Like you could touch him and find warm skin instead of the icy coolness that seemed to pervade him.  
  
Both Parvati's and Lavender's keen senses of hearing heard the little noise of disgust. "Seriously Hermione. He is a total hottie. Sure, he's a nasty Slytherin but we're just looking. And he's awfully nice to look at," Parvati said, a little snappishly.  
  
"I hear he's a really good snogger," Lavender said, dreamily. Then she colored and quickly added, "Not that I'd ever snog him. But Padma was saying that Susan Bones heard Mandy Brocklehurst say that Lisa Turpin told Laura Madley that his snogging was heavenly."  
  
Again, Hermione was impressed on how Lavender and Parvati kept all these details straight but couldn't exhibit the same level of memorization for their class work. If those two ever decided to pay attention, she would have had to fight them tooth and nail for her Head Girl badge. Those two could understand the intricate relationships of who-was-dating-whom but they couldn't manage to brew a simple Confusing Concoction. Although if one did hear them speak, they probably could manage to confuse you and give you a gargantuan headache in less than fifteen minutes. Hermione knew it was just harmless prattle. She just didn't see why she should be subjected to it.  
  
"Ooooh!" Parvati cooed.  
  
Hermione didn't want to think of Draco snogging anyone. It was disturbing mental picture. She didn't precisely know why. Probably because he was a snarky git that just wanted to get in any girl's pants. Although she knew it wasn't true. In their three weeks of sharing living quarters, the only ones that had come to see him had been Blaise Zabini, Daniel Pucey and Terry Boots. And he had asked for permission beforehand. If he really was the pervert that he seemed to be, there would have had to install a revolving portrait so that all the girls he was crediting of shagging could be able to walk through.  
  
Before Hermione developed a multi-personality disorder, Ginny walked in muddy and sweaty, her face flushed from Quidditch practice. Even though she usually sat on the bench, Harry insisted that everyone be prepared for any eventuality. He worked those on the bench as hard as the ones that walked onto the field. "Shower," was all she said before she disappeared again.  
  
"Have you seen Draco after Quidditch practice? I bet he looks just as sexy when he's sweaty and rumpled," Parvati said with a wink.  
  
_Of course he does!_, her brain thought. But wisely, Hermione held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was a line of girls trying to get into her private common room and into the bathroom she, unfortunately, had to share with Malfoy. She knew how embarrassing it was when the Gryffindor girls tried to sneak a peek of Harry in the shower. Frankly, it was just an invasion of privacy. And she definitely didn't not want to start running a peepshow for Malfoy's benefit. The bloody ferret would probably enjoy it too much. Goddamn egotistical bastard.  
  
"Honestly, I haven't noticed," Hermione said nonchalantly. On recollection, she should have guessed that this was a reverse psychology tactic that only made people want more. Needless to say, Hermione realized that didn't deter Lavender and Parvati.  
  
"Haven't noticed? Seriously, Hermione. You have possibly the hottest guy in the entire school!! You share a common room!!! And you don't notice how hot he is? You're never going to get a boyfriend this way. I mean, it's just not normal," Parvati said with a moue.  
  
"He's just a bloody ferret. So maybe he's got some really cool silver eyes, and maybe half the female population thinks he's überhot. Big fucking deal. He's still a Slytherin prat, with or without dragon skin pants," Hermione said with a certain amount of steel in her voice. She was Hermione Granger. Pretty blond locks or smouldering gray eyes were not going to make a difference. There was more to people than their bloody looks.  
  
Lavender and Parvati just rolled their eyes. Hermione still didn't get it. More importantly she was using her prefect voice on them. Did she have any clue how annoying it was?  
  
Just then Ginny popped in and rescued Hermione from the girly chatting and Lavender and Parvati from Hermione showing off her infamous temper. Hermione and Ginny headed out to the Gryffindor common room to hang out with the boys. 


	11. Chapter 11: The Mirror

[Author's Note: Had a complete writer's block on where I wanted to go after the last chapter. Back on track. Thank you for the patience. Thank Dashboard Confessional's "Vindicated"]  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble  
  
Chapter 11: The Mirror  
  
Hermione looked at her face critically in the mirror for a moment, water dripping from it before she buried it in a towel. With a dry face, she looked at herself again. It was no different from any other day. She didn't bother with makeup. Sometimes, a light lip gloss. On days that she looked completely exhausted, sometimes she would perform a minor glamour or use concealer. There were days that it got to be a little overwhelming, between classes, the schoolwork, the Head Girl commitments, the DA and the DADA meetings and spending every other minute with Harry and Ron. It was draining. Not that she didn't love spending time with her best friends or with the other Gryffindors but sometimes, she just wanted to spend some time with herself and by herself.  
  
And right now, she didn't particularly feel inclined to spend time with Harry and Ron. Both of them were in the middle of a full blown snit because Slytherin had flattened Hufflepuff over two hundred points in yesterday's Quidditch match. They were continuously talking strategy and possibility and how many points they would have to make in the upcoming Gryffindor – Ravenclaw. Ron had suspected that Harry refused to beat Ravenclaw too badly because of his relationship with seeker Cho Chang, didn't want the rest of the school to think that he was being vindictive. Other times, Ron thought that Harry was still carrying a bloody torch for her.  
  
Personally, Hermione hoped it was that Harry didn't want to appear vindictive. Although Cho was a nice girl, she had chosen to remain comfortably numb in a predictable relationship with Roger Davis. She just couldn't hack being in an intense relationship with Harry Potter, Voldermort's nemesis and Boy Wonder. In her moments of solitude, Hermione always took a step back and reviewed the events of the past more critically. She knew that she was used to the intensity, the adrenaline pumping adventures since the First Year. The encounter with the mountain troll in the girl's bathroom had served to cement the friendship of the Golden Trio. And it seemed that every year they got into a hare-brained madcap escapade. It was difficult to get used to that rhythm, difficult to keep pace with it, difficult to compete against it. Now, Harry was committed to other things like the preparation against the upcoming war and his own personal and crucial role in it. None of which were extremely romantic unless you were into the epic, driven hero.  
  
If any girl could deal with the epic, driven hero, it was Ginny Weasley. Her first year had that nasty encounter with Tom Riddle and the opening of Chamber of Secrets. She was personally acquainted with the evil of Voldermort in ways that no one, other than Harry, was. She was also inexorably linked to Voldermort through the memories in his journal, the same way Harry was linked to the Dark Lord through a scarred past. More importantly, Ginny's love had deepened past an infatuation, something she kept hidden and in denial. She had made a fool of herself, or so she felt, in the first few years and Fred and George's teasing hadn't helped the situation either. Hermione wished that Harry wasn't so blind and Ginny stopped refusing to acknowledge her feelings for Harry. They would make a good couple. And Harry deserved to be happy and could do no better than date Ginny. She was steadfast and loyal with a spitfire temper legendary among her brothers. She was also caring and a good friend. In fact, she was on her way here for some girl talk.  
  
Of course, Ginny would balk at the insinuations. The same way Hermione balked at those that assumed that she would date Ron. Admittedly, Hermione had some ambivalent feelings toward her other best friend. Ron was loyal, hot tempered, clueless and with the annoying tendency of putting his foot in his mouth without realizing. But he stood beside her and Harry without flinching, once he made up his mind. She simply didn't have any romantic feelings for him. She certainly didn't feel an attraction to him. If her feelings were ambivalent, it was that she knew how much Ron cared about her and it was nice to have a boy care about you. But she knew that Ron and her would not work out. At least not now. Perhaps if they were older and different people. She knew that she would make Ron a caring girlfriend, it wasn't difficult being affectionate to Ron. But caring didn't just translate into the love that Ron wanted from her. A love that she wasn't sure she could give him. And to be in a relationship was to admit to the possibility of that kind of love, and Hermione knew to the bottom of her bones that she didn't feel like that now and wouldn't develop such a feeling in a few weeks or months. She couldn't lie to Ron and hurt him that way. Dating someone simply because everyone else expected it, including your other best friend, was not the right reason.  
  
She wasn't interested in anyone else. She didn't have a crush on another guy. Her life had enough commitments as it was. But despite it all, her mind flashed to yesterday, watching the Slytherin Quidditch team walk onto the field. The screams from Slytherin had been impressive. The unofficial Draco Malfoy fan club had also cheered. Hermione had wanted to roll her eyes in disgust at the giggly Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls but it would have been a wasted effort. Besides, Ron's gagging noises had been quite the public exhibition.  
  
Despite her personal feelings, she had watched Malfoy walk onto the field, tall and confident. His blond locks shining in the sun, his cool demeanor and his trademark smirk firmly in place, he had raised his left hand in a fist above his head and Slytherin had gone wild with screaming and chanting. It never failed to make an impression on her and confirm that all Slytherins were snarky, conniving and plain idiotic. Malfoy was really the poster child of their House, the epitome of its values and ideals. And they cheered them on for it.  
  
But she felt that her mind was becoming too occupied with Malfoy and carefully retreated and put up a few mental barriers, watching the game dispassionately. Her replies to Harry's, Ron's and Ginny's ongoing commentary was very cursory but she knew that they didn't think too much about it. She simply wasn't the Quidditch aficionado. Besides, she didn't need them to know that Malfoy was a good player and despite being an arrogant arsehole prat, he brought a cool unflappable elegance. She watched him circle like a hawk, looking for the Snitch but also keeping an eye on the game as his team used sneaky tactics to demolish the Hufflepuff team. He had seemed like a young god, floating on top of the clouds.  
  
Hermione was brought out of her reverie by a pair of silver eyes in the mirror. She looked startled to see Draco at the doorway of his connecting door, sweaty, muddy and without a shirt on. His Quidditch practice must be over, she thought. His gaze was intense and scrutinizing without a hint of malice or taunting in it. Hermione felt that he could read her thoughts and knew what she had been thinking moments earlier. Not that she would ever admit that she had been thinking about him. Not that he would ask anyway. She held Malfoy's searing gaze too nonchalantly, despite the tingling of fear up her spine and the increased beating of her heart.  
  
She had seen his intense look before. It usually was centered on some academic problem. Now she knew what it was to have that silvery gaze looking at her, and part of her felt that she was going to pieces. But she would rather die than let Malfoy know or even have the slightest inkling that it was intimidating. Again, Hermione felt the lick of fear. But this fear was different. It was like looking at an abyss and Hermione simply didn't know what to think about it.  
  
He walked toward her slowly but with purpose. Hermione resisted the impulse to turn around and flee even if every step closer he took, she wanted to take a step back. Finally, it registered into her little maggoty brain that he was half naked. And that he was sweaty and stinky and very, very male. It wasn't like he was physically gargantuan. He wasn't beefy and meaty like his two personal bodyguards and lunkerheads, Crabbe and Goyle. Physically, he was much more like Harry. Lithe and muscular, even a little on the skinny side. Due to the exertion, his pale skin was flushed. Her mind decided to malfunction on her again and appreciate that an attractive, sweaty, half naked male with a well-cut body was heading toward her. Damn the pheromones and hormones! But she was enthralled, afraid and distinctly confused.  
  
He stopped a few feet from her, his gaze never wavering. Hermione looked at him for a long moment. She felt the silvery eyes swallow and consume her. She could almost feel the hair on her arms rising on end, her skin tingling. It got to be too much.  
  
She turned on her heel, turning her back on Malfoy. Hermione stalked out of the bathroom as quickly as possible, still feeling his gaze on her back. She slammed the door close between them.  
  
--------------------------------- ---------------------------------  
  
Draco was tired. Bone tired. He was also very cross. Oh, he had been fairly happy about beating the Hufflepuff team yesterday but Slytherin needed more than that to be able to win the Quidditch cup or the House Cup this year. And it was his last year to see Slytherin win. Every year bloody friggin' Pothead beat him to the Snitch. Every stinkin' bloody year the fucking red and gold Gryffindor colors plastered the Great Hall. For once, just once, he wanted his House to win while he was part of it. Oh, he knew that prior to the arrival of the Saintly Potter, Slytherin had held a seven year streak in Quidditch. Now, they didn't seem to be able to catch a break.  
  
Especially when all the teachers and the houses just adored the Golden Trio with their Boy Wonder.  
  
So he instituted a very strict Quidditch practice regime. No one in Slytherin dared to complain. They were all anxious to beat Gryffindor. Draco was not the only one with rankled sentiments. He also knew that he wasn't the only one that wanted to prove something against the Gryffindors. That they didn't always win. Even if the intents and motives varied, Slytherins were united in the single cause of besting the Gryffindors.  
  
Still, that didn't mean that he wasn't exhausted. He was. Sometimes it got to be too much, between schoolwork and classes, his band, being the Quidditch captain and being the Head of the Slytherins spread his notorious lack of patience thinly. Not that he wanted anyone to think he was less than capable of the challenge. Especially when the Head Girl was the notorious school bookworm, prissy goody two shoes that somehow managed to break more school rules than anyone other than the Weasley Twins, Hermione Granger. They both took their studies seriously; trying to make the top marks this year and make the graduation speech.  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed in frustration. She still hadn't caved in. They had been playing at this game for about three weeks. For three weeks, they hadn't spoken a single word to each other. They had glared and made snide remarks, but none directed at each other. He had traded insults with both the Boy-That-Was-A-Pain-On-His-Arse and the Blundering Idiot. Still, she hadn't actually spoken to him. Just looked at him.  
  
When he had walked in on her, he had just stood watching her look at herself in the mirror. For reasons unfathomable, he let himself actually look at her. And he wondered at what she saw when she looked into the mirror. Did she see the bookworm that needed to constantly answer every question? Did she see a third of the Golden Trio, adored by most of the school? Did she herself as an inferior Mudblood witch? Did she see her strength and determination and courage, all the things her House prized to the point of idiocy? Did she see how pretty she was?  
  
Draco scowled at that thought, as he ran the taps for his shower. Blasted Pucey and Zabini! Since their conversation a few weeks ago, he couldn't rid himself of the sinking suspicion that annoying bookworm Granger was pretty. The thought bothered him to the point that he wanted to throttle himself and scream at her that she was, in fact, not pretty. But that would not do under the current circumstances. He wasn't going to be the first one to break, even if it meant he couldn't taunt and jeer her about her beaver-like looks; although, Granger didn't look like a beaver at all. Seeing her in front of the mirror, he simply couldn't help but notice that she was pretty with wholesome natural looks. He knew enough of her routine to know that she didn't usually bother with beautification charms. Unlike Pansy, who seemed to be permanently charming something about herself to make her appearance look immaculate. It made Pansy look unnatural in comparison to Granger.  
  
It was more than that. Pucey had been right. Granger was fiercely independent, and that was a goad to any man. It was an unspoken challenge, in the way she carried herself. You could literally see that she wasn't thinking about boys or how to attract boys or how to make boys bend to her whims, all of which Pansy was an expert at. For Pansy, such thoughts were simply conniving and her specialty in manipulation. Draco couldn't help but be a little fascinated by Granger's complete lack of flirtatiousness and a little irritating. Any male, worth his salt, would be irritated. Granger's attitude implied that simply was not worth the notice. And Draco would not and could not abide that. He wasn't going to be ignored. He wasn't going to be cast aside without a consideration. He was bloody fucking Draco Malfoy, and he demanded that recognition.  
  
Dunking his head under the water, Malfoy didn't even question why he would want the recognition from a prickly Mudblood witch, that although pretty and a challenge, was not spectacularly beautiful or desirable. Unless one thought that dealing with Scarhead and Weasel Idiot fun. He simply knew that Granger would acknowledge him as a man that he was, acknowledge his existence. It wouldn't do for a mudblood to ignore a Malfoy.  
  
And he knew, even when she didn't, why she had run out of the bathroom. He bet that no one had looked at her like that, with intensity and purpose and desire. Granted, his desire was feigned and simply to teach the mudblood a lesson on what happened when you ignored a Malfoy. He had seen her skin flush and her eyes widen in confusion and knew, instinctively, that she didn't know a thing about desire and attraction. None had dared look at her. No one in Gryffindor would have dared because of her friendship with The-Most-Annoying-Prat-That-Lived and the Blundering Poor Man. Pothead didn't want her for himself and the Weasel harbored a secret crush that he didn't know what to do with. What a lack of bollocks on the moron. There had been her relationship with Viktor Krum back in the Fourth Year. He imagined that if Viktor had had any less than pure thoughts about Hermione, he had kept them to himself as to not frighten the young girl. Until now, she had lived in her ivory tower, untouched and untried, guarded by her fiercely protective guardian lions who would snarl at all those that came near, making the faint-hearted run away.  
  
And if Scarhead and Blundering Idiot didn't do the trick, she certainly did. Having been the recipient of Granger's banshee-like howls, having been slapped twice and insulted innumerable times, he was well acquainted with Granger's fearsome temper. For someone that was only pretty, it really wasn't worth putting up with her character. Or her big fat mouth. Despite the very kissable lips she had, pink and glossy and entirely too enticing. But a good snog was not worth the effort to get past the lions and climb up the ivory tower, especially when the lady was more likely to pierce your eardrums than kiss you in gratitude. She simply wasn't worth it. No woman was.  
  
Or at least that was what Draco kept telling himself.  
  
------------------ ------------------------------ -------------------------- -------  
  
"Sorry about this. I just needed to get out. And be able to talk to someone about something other than Quidditch," Ginny apologized, lying on Hermione's bed, twirling a small pillow between her hands.  
  
"Merlin! Are they still at it?" Hermione asked with a shake of her head and a slight look of disgust.  
  
"Bloody yes. It's like you whenever you talk about a homework assignment," Ginny said cheekily, sticking her tongue out at Hermione and smiling. "And you know that I'm right and that they will be for the next few days."  
  
Hermione sighed. She knew that Ginny was right. On both accounts.  
  
"Anyway, I wanted to find out what it is that you told Parvati and Lavender," Ginny continued, with a casual toss of her red hair.  
  
"You're joking aren't you? I can't believe that you'd want to know," Hermione said, gaping at Ginny.  
  
"Are you bloody daft woman? Of course I want to know. Everyone wants to know. Were you blind yesterday? Or are you going to tell me that you didn't?" Ginny retorted back.  
  
"No, I'm not ruddy daft. Everyone else is! I'm not blind! I just don't see what the big deal is," Hermione replied huffily.  
  
Ginny shook her head back and tinker-bell like laughter followed. "You're serious aren't you? You have no idea how hot Draco Malfoy is."  
  
If you only knew, Hermione thought, an image of hot, sweaty and chest bared Malfoy flashing through her mind. "He's a git. A complete prat," she sneered.  
  
"Of course he is. He's a Malfoy. But that doesn't mean that he isn't hot as hell and sexy as sin," Ginny said with a smile.  
  
"No use arguing with you. Unlike your brothers, I know that you'll just win in the end, you sneaky girl. Regardless of whether you are right or not," Hermione said with a grin.  
  
Ginny chucked the pillow at Hermione.  
  
Hermione shrieked, laughing but caught it and threw it back at Ginny.  
  
"So are you going to tell me? What is he like? Does he have girls parade through his dorm room every night? Is he prancing around in his black dragon leather pants? Is he dating the Parkinslut? Have you seen his knickers? Has he been bad and sexy and tried to seduce you?" Ginny asked a volley of questions.  
  
"Yes. Impossible. No. No. No. No. No. Thank Merlin," Hermione answered.  
  
"Of come off it! I bet you would love that! Oh Draco, yes, take me. Ravish me. You big bad Slytherin you! Yes, that snarky look does it for me. Smirk a little more. Wear those black dragon leather pants that emphasize your bum. Spank me. I want to be naughty," Ginny said in a high pitch voice, not even attempting to imitate Hermione's voice as Hermione started to chase her around the bedroom.  
  
"You're horrible! Don't you know we share a bathroom? What if he hears you? The egocentrical bastard might think we're talking about him for real," Hermione yelled at Ginny, half mad but laughing nevertheless.  
  
Ginny just laughed and Hermione realized how much Weasley blood ran through her veins. For those that thought Fred and George, the infamous twins were bad, they hadn't dealt with the machinations of one Virginia Weasley.  
  
"Virginia Weasley! You're evil! Sheer evil!" Hermione laughing, yelled at her and threw pillows at Ginny's head.  
  
And the girls continued to chase each other around, laughing and chatting all the same. Both of them trying not to think about the two boys that seemed to flit through their minds and thoughts, like the sunshine shining in through the windows. 


	12. Chapter 12: One Good Kick Deserves Anoth...

[Author's Notes: I've decided to pick up the pace a bit. And since someone complained about not enough action, I decided to try a new style. Let's see how much you like this chapter. I feel it gives more of an insight into their heads, while letting something happen.

PLEASE EXCUSE THE FORMATING! QUICKEDIT WON'T LET ME CHANGE IT!]

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

Chapter 12: One Good Kick Deserves Another

Hermione Granger kicked herself mentally for the three hundred sixty-fourth time this week. She had been thinking about Malfoy. Again. She wanted to scream in frustration. It had been four days since what she was referring to as the "bizarre incident in the bathroom" with Malfoy and she was on the verge of losing it. Big time.

She wanted to scream and punch and jeer and taunt and basically tell Malfoy to leave her the fuck alone.

But she couldn't do that. The prat.

All he was doing was looking. There wasn't a crime in looking was there? Except his were deep, intense smoldering looks. Not that anyone else had noticed the way he was looking at her. He didn't stare at her pointedly all the time. He just seemed to do it when no one was paying attention, which was entirely too frequently for her peace of mind.

Not that Malfoy hadn't stared at her before. But since the "bizarre incident in the bathroom", it was different. She was aware of Malfoy. Too aware. She knew when he was looking at her and when he wasn't. She didn't even have to look up to see. In fact, she refused to acknowledge that Malfoy was looking at her. She refused to acknowledge that he was constantly in her thoughts. She refused to acknowledge that something had changed. But for the life of her, she didn't know what it was.

Hermione kicked herself mentally for the three hundred sixty-fifth time. It was going to be a long day. She had barely touched her own breakfast, playing with her food as she thought of Malfoy. _Three hundred and sixty-six_, she thought.

"Oy! Hermione! Do you think you could go over my Charms essay and see if I missed something?" Ron asked, his mouth full of muffins and strawberry jam.

"Ronald Weasley! If you can't speak with me civilly, I suggest you don't speak to me at all!" Hermione snapped and rose with a huff. She couldn't take this anymore. She managed to sling her overstuffed bookbag over her shoulder and left for the relative quiet of the Arithmancy classroom.

Ron looked with a puzzled expression to his other bestfriend. "What did I do wrong?" he asked.

Harry just shrugged and sighed and buried his thoughts in his morning cup of cocoa.

------------------------- ---------------------------- ---------------------

Draco was having way too much fun torturing one Hermione Granger. He should have thought about this ages ago. Of course the girl was attracted to him. What girl wasn't?

Of course, it bothered him that it was this easy. Only four days, and Granger looked like she was about to crack from the pressure. Granted, they weren't speaking or she would have told him off with some choice language some time ago. But she clung to her stubborn Gryffindor pride and kept quiet. Oh, Draco could feel the steam rising from her, could tell that she was biting her tongue. She didn't want to be the first to give in. He was mildly surprised and almost a begrudging respect that she hadn't cracked yet. Merlin! Anyone else, even those in Slytherin would have caved in by now. Saintly Potter and Weasel Numbskull would have choked within five minutes. Really, it was amazing how fucking clueless those two were.

Granted, part of Granger's problem is that she didn't know what game Draco was playing, something he knew precisely. He was going to prove to Potter's little princess that he still commanded her attention; that despite everything, she could and did want him.

Not that he actually wanted her attention. So what if others found her pretty and attractive and shaggable. Really, the only true incentive to her was the fact that she was probably the last virgin in the Seventh Year. It would have rubbed his ego the wrong way if she had been a pureblood. But this was bloody Hermione Granger! He was Draco Malfoy! He knew his worth.

He bit into his almond scone and watched as Granger left the Great Hall in a huff.

---------------------- ----------------------- ----------------

He was doing it _again_.

Hermione gritted her teeth, and started to make noisy sounds with her quill as she scribbled furiously. She became so absorbed in taking her Arithmancy notes that she didn't notice Seamus's raised eyebrows and quizzical gaze.

She wasn't going to turn around and confirm what she felt. She could feel the temperature rising up her spine. Hopefully, her cheeks weren't flushing. Thankfully, she always sat in the front of the class, so only those in her row and Professor Vector would notice.

Damn Malfoy! What was he trying to get at?

--------------------- --------------------- ------------------

Draco could barely contain his laughter. He had a nice direct view of Granger from his seat in the back. He could hear her quill from here. He was willing to bet 100 galleons that she was probably blushing.

Arithmancy was soon to become his favorite class. He could stare at Hermione all he wanted and not worry about any Slytherin noticing. He could stare at her all of the class period without anyone noticing.

Bollocks! He just thought of Granger as 'Hermione'.

Maybe he was staring at her too much. It was starting to affect his thought pattern.

------------------ ---------------------- --------------------

Except Draco Malfoy was not as slick as he wanted to pretend he was. Someone else noticed. Someone that had a full view of the classroom.

Professor Vector made a mental note, smiled and kept lecturing class.

The gossip session in the teacher's lounge would just get even more interesting with this recent new development.

Professor Vector couldn't wait to see the look on Professor Snape's face.

--------------------- --------------- ------------------------

You would think that her sitting next to Ron and Harry would deter those stupid looks that Malfoy kept sending her way. Obviously, it just went to prove that Malfoy was bloody suicidal. If Ron and Harry caught him looking at her like that, they'd beat him into a bloody pulp. Hermione took a grim satisfaction at that.

And then kicked herself for the 416th time for thinking about Malfoy. Again.

He was _still_ giving her that long pointed look!

What was wrong with Ron and Harry? They are just so oblivious! How can they not notice that the prat was still looking at her? With those big luminescent silver eyes...

Kick #417.

----------------- --------------------- --------------------------

Did she seriously think that Pothead and Weasel King were going to deter him? Draco felt mildly insulted. Those two meant nothing to him, other than supreme annoyances. He actually wanted those two to notice. He could visualize the veins popping in both of their foreheads, the angry shouts and his cool but superior attitude to their childish tantrums.

Merlin! How dense could two people be? They still hadn't noticed! You could almost exchange them with Crabbe and Goyle because they certainly didn't notice a thing that was obviously in front of them.

Draco was so absorbed in this new game he was playing the Miss Goody Two Shoes that he didn't notice Millicent Bulstrode watching him.

-------------------- ---------------------- -----------------------------

Blaise Zabini watched interestedly as Millicent Bulstrode whispered into Pansy Parkinson's ear. He'd talk to Millicent later. Right now, he was way more interested in Pansy's reaction. He saw as Pansy's eyes widened and filled with incredulity. She looked swiftly at Draco and followed his gaze across the Great Hall. Her face contorted in anger and she and Millicent exchanged a meaningful look.

Blaise took a look at what Draco was looking at and grinned enormously. He'd seen that look on Draco's face before and recognized it. He didn't expect Pansy to grasp the subtleties of Draco's behavior. Where Pansy would merely note Draco's interest in the pristine Head Girl, who seemed rather frazzled this morning, Blaise understood what Draco was ultimately trying to do. Which was to get Hermione Granger to acknowledge him, and thereby have power over her.

He smiled. This is why he enjoyed following Draco. He was good at what he did. Blaise's gaze idled over the Gryffindor table and he noticed his favorite head of red hair. She was listening intently to whatever Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey was saying. Strange kid, that Creevey one. Although his camera became quite useful a number of times.

What a school year this year was turning out to be. Blaise decided it would time to start a betting pool on how long it would take before the entire situation exploded.

It almost made him feel like whistling.

--------------------- ------------------------ -----------------------

By now, Harry and Ron had noticed that something was very off with Hermione today. She was even more short tempered that usual, she literally growled when you talked to her but above all she was silent and jumpy. There was also a strange flush on her neck and cheeks.

Harry hoped that she wasn't getting sick. Hermione had the nasty inclination of running herself ragged every semester. Sometimes, it was too many classes. Other times it was just taking her examinations too seriously. He hoped that she wasn't already preparing for her N.E.W.Ts. She really did stress out too much.

Ron hoped that Hermione would check his Charms essay. He had the distinct feeling he was missing some crucial information but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. Perhaps if he took better notes. Perhaps, if he hadn't spent most of last night playing Exploding Snap with Dean and Neville instead of doing some research, he wouldn't be missing two inches from it.

Neither of them noticed a certain Slytherin watching Hermione constantly. They noticed that he was looking their way. But seriously, who gave a flying fuck if the Slytherin Prat was looking smarmily their way? He probably was plotting something. Jealous Toad.

---------------------- --------------------- -------------------------

Hermione hid out in the library that evening. She didn't like to think that she was actually hiding out from Malfoy. She wasn't afraid. She was just... irritated. She needed to be able to concentrate on her homework.

It had been heinous enough all day. Was everyone else blind? Hadn't anyone else noticed?

Besides, she liked spending time in the library. Surrounded by centuries of knowledge, she didn't have the pressures of having to answer a question. She was there learning, like everyone else. Books didn't care what you looked like. Books didn't care if you didn't talk to them. Books were there whenever you needed them. Not that Harry and Ron or any of the other Gryffindors weren't there when you needed them, but books simply weren't demanding at all.

She opened her Potions book and began to read.

----------------- ------------------- ----------------------------

Draco was slightly peeved. Somehow, she had managed to run away from him. Of course, it pleased him that Granger had retreated. But it deprived him of his new favorite game. He had considered going to search for her. But he had Quidditch practice that afternoon. Besides, it wasn't like he was chasing after the annoying bushy haired bookworm. He simply enjoyed every opportunity he got to needle her.

Although, he wondered if Zabini had been hit by the Bludger too hard this evening. Blaise kept grinning idiotically at him. In the annoying 'I know something you don't' patented Zabini way.

He had wanted to talk to Zabini and shake what information Blaise had. Except that would have given Zabini the satisfaction that he had gotten to him.

So Draco had conducted a very vicious and exhausting workout.

Zabini still retained his idiotic grin.

Draco thought of Hermione Granger, smirked and decided he had earned himself a nice long bath.

-------------- --------------------------- --------------------------

Hermione shut her Care of Magical Creatures book with a resounding snap and gathered up her books and school supplies. She had been able to have a productive few hours.

So what if she had missed dinner? She had missed dinner before. It certainly wasn't because of an arrogant ferret-faced Slytherin.  
  
Hermione mentally groaned. She had been doing so well. She kicked herself mentally for the 678th time. She had managed to stop thinking about him for a few hours. Why did she have to start back up? The last thing she wanted to do is have her free time consumed by thoughts of Draco Malfoy, bad boy extraordinaire.

Kick #679.

------------------------------- ------------------- --------------------

Draco walked into his common room and saw that there was the customary cup of cocoa waiting for Granger, which meant that she wasn't here. Not that it mattered, he still had priority to the bathroom as previously stipulated in their agreement.

And right now, he didn't care if Miss Prissy Gryffindor was in or not, he wanted to soak his cold and battered body in a nice hot bath. And just forget how exhausted he was. And how much homework he still had to do.

He filled the tub and haphazardly tugged his clothes off. He sank into the tub and closed his eyes.

And promptly fell asleep, drugged by the heat of the bath water and his own exhaustion.

--------------------------------- ------------------ ---------------------

Hermione snagged her cup of cocoa waiting for her in the common room and drank deeply. She was a little chilled from her stay in the library. A nice long bath would be perfect.

She got undressed in her room and put on her faded pink bathrobe. And then proceeded to walk into the bathroom.

Only to find a very naked Draco Malfoy asleep in the bathtub.

Hermione's brain stopped functioning. It stopped working at all. She just goggled. Her hormones broke loose and raged.

He. Was. Beautiful.

Hermione's face turned bright red. She didn't want to think she was attracted to Draco Malfoy. She didn't want to find him heartbreakingly beautiful and deliciously vulnerable lying naked in the bathroom they shared.

She got hot but brushed it off as the heat from the bathtub's water.

After a few seconds of just mindless staring, her brain snapped back into functionality. She remembered to breathe again. With oxygen flowing through her brain, she made a decision.

She ran back into her room and slammed the door.

But this time, she didn't kick herself for thinking about Draco Malfoy.


	13. Chapter 13: Blanket Expressions

[Author's Notes: Thanks for the patience and the encouraging words. Special thanks for all the readers that have stuck with me from the beginning. I hope it's paying off for you guys.

PLEASE EXCUSE THE FORMATTING. QUICKEDIT DOESN'T SEEM TO LIKE IT]

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.  
  
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

Chapter 13: Blanket Expressions

Hermione leaned against the bathroom door, her eyes shut and her breathing labored. She could still see Draco's face in her mind. Why is it that sleeping people always seem younger and more… vulnerable? Without his smirk, or a sneer in his face, Draco's face could make an angel sigh. Perhaps it was the generations of aristocratic upbringing but he had a classical beauty. It reminded Hermione of Michelangelo's David. Sublime perfection. Sublime _naked _perfection.

She had to stop thinking about him. She couldn't stay in her room either. It was too close to him. Especially since he was naked. She didn't want to know that. She didn't need to know that.

Of course, the polite thing would be to wake him up. Really, falling asleep in the bath. What a stupid thing to do!

But that would mean getting close to him. _And he was naked! Naked!_ Her brain chanted at her.

Hermione's brain fused into one giant gloopy mess. She really didn't want to think about getting closer to a naked Draco Malfoy. Not that it wasn't appealing. But really, she wasn't interested. She wasn't some sort of bloody pervert. She didn't want to peek. Not that she'd ever peeked like some of the other girls she knew. Not to say that she wasn't curious. But really she didn't want to see a naked Draco Malfoy… But she just did!

Bloody hell! She couldn't stop thinking about what she knew was behind the door. She really needed to go somewhere else. But go where? She couldn't return to the library and she really wasn't up to talking to anyone back in Gryffindor Tower. The last thing she needed was Lavender and Parvati haranguing her about a naked Draco Malfoy. She could only imagine what Harry and Ron would do if word got out. She closed her eyes and sighed.

What she really needed was tea. Tea always calmed her down. She'd go downstairs and get some tea, read for a while until she heard Malfoy in his room and just take her bath then. That sounded like a plan. Besides, Malfoy didn't know that she had seen him naked. She didn't even want to give that prat that kind of advantage. She could only imagine the kind of lurid tale he'd concoct and spread around the school if he found out. The last thing she needed this year would be the rumor that Malfoy and her were up to hanky panky in the Head Bathroom and/or having a torrid love affair.

She called Dobby and he appeared a few minutes later with a teapot of Earl Grey and a tea cup, along with some shortbread cookies. While she waited, she went over to her side of the common room and picked a book for leisure reading, Common Myths regarding Fairy Folk Volume 1. She sat down on the plump couch in front of the fire, poured herself a cup of tea and started to read the thick book.

But sitting in front of the warm fire, with her tummy full of tea and cookies, and her mind frazzled with the events of the last few days, Hermione fell asleep on the couch.

* * *

Draco woke up chilled. The water was almost cold and he shivered. He must have fallen asleep in the bath. Must have been absolutely exhausted. With a shake of his head, he rose from the water and toweled himself dry. How long had he been asleep? He looked like an albino prune! Really, wrinkly skin was extremely unattractive. Thank goodness for the Malfoy genes or else he'd kill himself before he reached sixty.

In his room, he dressed in warm flannel pajama pants and grey cashmere sweater. Pulling on thick woolen socks, he knew he just would finish with homework and tumble into bed. But he didn't want to catch a cold in the common room, despite the fire, while he did his homework.

Snagging his backpack, he walked down the stairs and into the common room. He wondered idly where Granger was. Probably with her two laplions. Draco snorted. Those two didn't even have an inkling of what they held so loosely in their hands. Imbeciles.

He dumped his backpack on his table and started unpacking his parchment and quills. He started looking around for the Grammatica Mytholigyque that he had checked out earlier from the library to finish his Care of Magical Creatures essay when he noticed a tea set and a plate of half-eaten shortbread cookies on the table by the fireplace.

That's when his peripheral vision registered a head of wavy curls and a generous expanse of smooth legs. Granger had fallen asleep on the couch!

Draco swallowed hard. His brain barely registered the faded pink bathrobe only to note how ridiculously short it was. It was slightly higher that mid-thigh. Was that the edge of Granger's knickers peaking out?

He felt rooted to the floor. He wanted to touch but at the same time he couldn't force himself to move. All he could do was see. And what he saw was making his blood run hot.

She was sleeping so peacefully, her face devoid from any anger or marked with worry. Her pose was modest, like that of a sleeping child. Her innocence struck Draco full force. Here was a girl, on the verge of womanhood that simply was not aware of her own beauty, of her own power. But at the same time, she was intrinsically feminine. There was no slyness, no guile, no art.

Draco drank in the play of the firelight on her shining hair, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her rosy lips were parted in sleep. He found himself next to her, observing her closely. His hand reached out on its own volition and touched her hair, silky and cool to the touch. It curled around his finger and he was pleased in some sort of unknown and basic way that he himself couldn't tell that he was pleased. He didn't want to find her beautiful but, unlike a few weeks ago, he didn't curse himself for it.

At this point, his brain started having a multipersonality disorder moment. Pervert Draco wanted him to take a peek underneath the bathrobe. Pureblooded Draco was disgusted at Perverted Draco. Romantic Draco wanted to kiss the beautiful girl in front of him. Perverted Draco and Pureblooded Draco yelled at Romantic Draco, Pervert Draco for only stopping at a kiss and Pureblooded Draco was disgusted that Romantic Draco could even suggest that Granger was beautiful. Responsible Draco chimed in that he really should be doing his chores but he was diligently ignored by all the other Dracos. Slytherin Draco agreed with Pureblooded Draco that this was a mudblood and on top of it a bloody Gryffindor. Practical Draco reminded everyone that this was Hermione Granger and it simply would not do for Draco to be concerned with her at all. Loser Draco simply stated that, regardless, he was still Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger and why would she ever want anything with him anyway? Chivalrous Draco bellowed saying that the least he could do, as man and as an honorable Malfoy would be to cover her with a blanket before she catches her death from a cold. Pervert Draco said in a sly singsong voice that there were _other_ ways to make sure that she didn't catch a cold, added a wink and raised his eyebrows suggestively before he was pounded into the ground by Chilvarous Draco and Romantic Draco.

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was ruddy Hermione Granger. And he was bloody Draco Malfoy. End of story. Merlin! There wasn't even a story to begin!

But he covered Granger with a blanket from his bed before starting his homework. He gave himself two excellent reasons. He didn't want to be staring at her legs all night and he didn't want to be caught staring at her either. That banshee voice of hers was not worth it.

He threw himself into his Care of Magical Creatures essay with an intense fervor.

* * *

Hermione stretched, her mind fuzzy and comfortably warm. She snuggled under the blanket, bringing it over her shoulder before her brain registered what she was doing. She was snuggling under a blanket! She opened her eyes wide, only to find herself staring at the ceiling of her common room, dark and astrological constellations painted in a heavy medieval style in gold.

Her breath hitched. The last she could remember was that she had gotten some tea and was reading Common Myths regarding Fairy Folk Volume 1. She looked to her left and saw the tray with the tea set and the plate with the shortbread cookies. The fire crackled merrily at her.

She exhaled slowly. She was still in her common room. But that still didn't explain where the mysterious blanket came from.

A distinctive purr made her sit up and Crookshanks jumped onto her lap. "Crookshanks, love, where you been?" she crooned softly at it.

Crookshanks's smile merely got wider and larger. His purring just got louder.

That's when Hermione noticed she wasn't alone in the common room. Her brain flashed immediately to the scene in the bathroom! She must be ruddy daft! Of course Malfoy was around. She had seen him naked in the bathroom! Where else would he be?

Peeking above the back of the couch, straining her neck, she could make the top of white blond hair. Hermione immediately stopped peeking and started panicking. Again.

At this point Hermione's brain divided into the two houses of Parliament and proceeded to have an endless debate about what had happened and what was the best way to handle it. One part simply wanted to call Malfoy a pervert, storm off to her bedroom and lock herself there until reinforcements arrived. The other part argued that accusing Malfoy of inappropriate behavior without any proof would imply that she wanted him to be inappropriate with her, which she really didn't want to, did she? Also, the same part argued that an innocent man was innocent until proven guilty and even though this was Malfoy, junior Death Eater and snarky git, even he deserved the benefit of the doubt. Surely _she_ could be the better person. The other part argued that this was Malfoy, ruddy prat extraordinaire and deserved no courtesies from her. Both sides agreed that in all probability Hermione would never find out the truth of what really happened because Malfoy would just lie through his teeth. _Who was she kidding_? Malfoy wouldn't ever be nice to her. Lack of insults was one thing. Deliberate niceness was completely out of sync with Malfoy's personality.

Crookshanks headbutted her hand demanding attention. She continued to pet him absentmindedly while she continued to think about what to do. It was obvious that _something_ had happened. The question was what precisely. And did she _really_ want to know?

She finally decided the best course of action was not to mention it. If she didn't mention it and he didn't mention it, then it was like nothing happened. She was willing to believe that. Although it was obvious that something had happened because the blanket hadn't been there when she fell asleep, she didn't want to think about it. Because then she would start thinking about how strange Malfoy had been acting lately.

Specially those long intense looks he'd been sending her way.

Which brought her current predicament. She was covered by a strange green blanket and she was only wearing her old bathrobe. Hermione became embarrassed and mortified. For several reasons. She wasn't exactly ashamed of her bathrobe. She loved it. But she knew that it was old and raggedy and short. Revealingly short. She didn't want Malfoy to think she dressed like this for _his_ benefit. Nor did she want him thinking she couldn't afford a decent bathrobe.

Of course Malfoy had _looked_. Hermione blushed. What a sight she must have been. He probably thought she did it on purpose!

It also irritated Hermione that Malfoy had been the one to see her in such a revealing state. Going to the beach with Harry and Ron didn't count. In her one-piece swimsuit it wasn't like she was wearing a skimpy bikini. Or going topless as was the fashion in other beaches.

_Concentrate!_ She told herself sternly. She needed to get to her room. Quickly. And without Malfoy getting more looks at her in her knickers. She could just wrap the blanket around herself and go. And hope that Malfoy didn't notice her.

Mustering up her courage and gathering the blanket around her, Hermione marched determinedly to her room and up the stairs, clenching her teeth against the cold stone floor as she dashed upstairs. Once in her room, she closed the door and locked it. She then went into the bathroom and locked it from the inside.

She then proceeded to take her long-deferred shower.

* * *

He knew when she woke up. He heard her coo at her cat, which seemed to have a preternatural sense of awareness and knew that she was awake because he left his side. Granted, as of late, the ragamuffin ball of fur was growing on him. He liked intelligent animals. He was even willing to bet a hundred galleons that the cat was smarter than Crabbe and Goyle combined. Granger had probably taught the cat a number of things. Of course, the so-called 'cleverest witch in Hogwart's' would want the cleverest cat.

But it had been comforting to pet the cat as he did his Charms exercises and Arithmancy problems, and hearing it purr. It made the time more enjoyable.

Draco enjoyed the companionable silence.

He'd seen but pretended not to notice at her peeking from behind the couch, confirming his suspicions that she was back in the land of the living. He could just picture the look of panic and confusion on Granger's face when she discovered that there was a blanket on her. He could almost hear the words turning in her head.

Draco braced himself for the confrontation. She would accuse him of being a pervert and looking at her. Of course he had looked. He was ruddy eighteen years old and he wasn't a saint or a moron like Pothead or Weasel. As for being a pervert, none of the ideas that had flashed through his head were a perversion. Merlin! He'd get a hard-on again just remembering them. And he certainly hadn't groped her either. He liked his partners to be awake and willing. The entire experience had to be interactive. His preference was to have some feedback as he's snogging or shagging his partner senseless. He seriously didn't want to hear her banshee screech again. He wondered if he had any ear plugs lying about. Sometimes he needed them when Blaise went a little crazy on the drums during practice.

But it never came. Instead, she had literally run out the room, clutching his blanket and locking herself in her room. Draco exhaled in relief and ignored the feeling of disappointment. Had part of him honestly expected for Granger to acknowledge that he had done something considerate? He was mildly surprised that she hadn't bolted immediately or shredded the blanket looking for hidden hexes. Which would have been disappointed. He liked his blanket. It had been custom made for him from the finest wool in Ireland. Naturally green-haired sheep were quickly becoming a rarity these days.

Crookshanks appeared at his side again and headbutted his hand with a miaow.

"Faithless wretch!" Draco scolded him good-naturedly but petted him nonetheless.

Crookshanks just grinned at him.

Draco was dipping his eagle feather quill in the inkwell when he heard someone clear her throat. He turned around to see Granger, fresh out of the shower in her pajamas. The smell of lavender tickled his nose and made his blood start to run hot. Although every inch of her skin was covered in well-worn flannel, Draco's stomach clenched at the sight of her. Because now he knew. He knew that she had long smooth legs and silky hair. He knew that she was a woman that didn't know she was beautiful and thus wouldn't use it as a weapon to get what she wanted. He knew what she looked like when she was asleep. She was looking at him now and she looked clean, rosy and tad confused. She had folded up his blanket and had it folded over one arm.

"I…uh… erm, well… you must have… and I…just wanted to say thank you," she said, decidedly uncomfortable holding out his blanket.

Draco was in a state of shock. If anyone, in his short life had told him that one day Hermione Granger would thank him for anything, he would have laughed in their face and then proceeded to ask what kind of accident they had at birth because they were bloody daft! Not that she knew that he was in a state of shock. He continued to look at her calmly and managed to move his head enough to nod in acknowledgement. Hermione Granger thanked him! Imagine that! Never in a million years would he have imagined this.

"Yes, well… I see you're busy…ugh.. well, good night," she said and then turned on her heel and disappeared into her bedroom.

Now, Draco was absolutely thunderstruck. Granger was talking at him politely. She had even bid him goodnight. Wonders of wonders! Draco grinned wolfishly. He had won. She had spoken first. He had to give her credit that she had lasted this long. But she had still given in.

Then, it dawned on him. Granger had been nervous! She had stammered. Twice. He had never known her to stammer. It pleased Draco to know that he had rattled her. And rattled her good.

He told himself he was pleased that Granger had broken and spoken first… not over the fact that she had thanked him.

Draco picked up his blanket on his way to bed and noticed that it smelled of lavender. He smiled and fell asleep with a trace of lavender around him.

* * *

[Author's Note: If my readers could kindly review and tell me if you're liking how this story is unfolding. I want some feedback before I write the next chapter. I'm thinking a little scene in the Teacher's Lounge. Comments?]


	14. Chapter 14: Meanwhile, In the Rest of th...

Author's Notes: Thank you all for your patience and your reviews. Had a bit of a delay with work and writer's block.

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR. The song "Bent" is from Matchbox20.

Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

* * *

Chapter 14: Meanwhile, in the rest of the school...

* * *

"I beg your pardon?" Minerva McGonagall raised an eyebrow and skewered Professor Vector with a pointed look. "Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy? Seriously, I suggest you spend less time looking at numbers and more time with the students."

Professor Vector continued to smile serenely at her fellow professors, which only seemed to incite talk over this particular tidbit of gossip. A few seconds of a pause made all the other teachers reflect on the recent behavior of the two aforementioned students.

"Well, come to think of it, Malfoy has been less intractable and Hermione has been quieter. I think she neglected to raise her hand regarding a question of the Tenebrous Vinca," Professor Sprout mused aloud.

"You don't suppose he's threatened her? Or hexed her, do you?" Professor Flitwick asked, a bit alarmed.

"Utterly ludicrous. Young Malfoy, despite the rumors, is an honorable young man," Snape snapped.

Several professors snorted at the comment. Some exchanged significant looks. Snape, not impervious to them, scowled. Professor Tara merely observed the exchange silently.

"He's not stupid, if that's what you mean. Hard to be a good Seeker and stupid to boot. No match against Harry, of course, but then again Harry should really think about playing professionally. Boy was born to play Quidditch, I tell you," Madame Hooch said.

"I dare say that Mr. Potter has other plans for the future at the moment," Professor McGonagall said, her voice faltering a bit at the end.

A more somber silence settled into the room.

"Right," Madame Hooch said briskly, a little embarrassed at her own thoughtlessness, trying to dispel the awkwardness of the situation. "I think Minny, we're all aware of the situation. But perhaps what Harry needs at this moment is not to be constantly reminded about who he is and be treated like anyone else."

Another silence. Here was the crux of their problem for the last seven years. They were responsible in teaching the Boy that Lived, who isn't necessarily the same as teaching Harry Potter. Their potential leader, leader of the Light Side, was nevertheless a teenage boy. Most of the time they were torn between who Harry had to become for the sake of the entire Wizarding World and who Harry was.

"Why is it so terrible if Draco Malfoy is interested in Hermione Granger or vice-versa?" Professor Tara's clear voice, resounded throughout the entire room.

She bore the scandalized looks of everyone in the room with a calm expression.

Minerva McGonagall exchanged a look with Severus Snape before she spoke first. "Taking into account that you have remained ignorant of the events in the last twenty years because you have not been here, suffice to say that Hermione Granger exemplifies most of the characteristics of House Gryffindor. She is smart, courageous, loyal and dedicated. However, she does not come from a wizarding family. Those in Syltherin have always prided themselves on their history and hold certain beliefs regarding their place in the world and who belongs in it," she said, choosing her words carefully.

"There is also a legendary animosity between Ms. Granger and her friends and Mr. Malfoy. Neither Ms. Granger nor her friends have endeared themselves to Mr. Malfoy. Draco's temperament would be ill-tried with the likes of Ms. Granger," Snape added.

"Both of them are quite brilliant. But they come from different worlds. It's very difficult for either of them to accept the other," Professor Flitwick chimed in.

"Simply stated, she is a Gryffindor and he is a Slytherin," Professor Sprout commented.

Professor Tara looked around the room and finished sipping her tea. "It is no wonder that there is a war going on, if all we continue to teach the children are to see the differences," she finally said with a wry smile.

There is a stunned silence around the room.

"It seems to me that from the description of the situation and your own reactions to it, we have all forgotten that the whole continues to be greater than the sum of its parts. Beyond being a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, or a wizard or a witch, they are people with thoughts and feelings and emotions."

Professor Tara rose from the table and moved toward the door as her words fell on the silence like a thick blanket. The rest of the professors wondered if they had gotten caught up in labels. She stopped to look at the rest of the faculty square in the eye and said, "Would it be so terrible if they actually managed to see past the masks we have imposed on them and the role they have been assigned and established a connection? From one being to another? It seems to me that is what we should all strive for."

With that, she left the room, leaving the rest of the faculty more to chew on than just their food.

* * *

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore chuckled to himself and reached for another lemon drop. Although of late his time was being consumed more and more by the Order, and he had relegated most of actual work to Minerva, he tried to spend as much time in the school as possible. He loved his children very much, even the wayward ones. And sometimes, he just needed a respite from everything that was going on and just be a headmaster. 

He knew that Professor Tara would be an unknown factor in the faculty. _Quite a strange one, that one_, he thought cheerily. But then again, he had never shied away from taking chances with his faculty appointments. He had wanted to rehire Lupin for this year, but Lupin was needed a little more critically within the Order at the moment.

Dumbledore enjoyed the entire aspect of the students' social lives. He knew about the quarrels, arguments, bets, games and hobbies of his students. He enjoyed the drama as a spectator, watching the students work their way through their opinions and the opinions of others. He liked to watch his children grow. More importantly, he liked to see them make their own decisions for good or for evil.

He petted Fawkes and thought of the newest chapter of the drama in Hogwarts. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, indeed. Oh, the joys of being young!

* * *

"You don't suppose she's taking her NEWTS too seriously do you, mate?" Ron asked, a little worried. 

"Relax. This is our Hermione. She has been planning on her NEWTS ever since she made it into Hogwarts. I think she also planned on being this year's valedictorian. Even I know that," Ginny said soothingly although the question hadn't been directed at her.

"Ginny is right. This is Hermione. She always takes her studies too seriously. You know how she gets," Harry answered.

"But we rarely see her anymore!" Ron exclaimed.

"You see each other for class, for the Survival Club meeting, you see her for the Prefect's meeting, and there's meals at the Great Hall," Ginny said, counting on her fingers.

"But its not the bloody same!" Ron continued to complain.

Ginny and Harry exchanged a look.

"Well, she's got Head Girl duties and we have Quidditch practice and all of us have studying to do," Harry said with a smile.

"Honestly, if you want to see her more often, why don't you go and visit her or tell her to come see us or ask her if she wants to go to Hogsmeade next weekend. You do have to make an effort, you know," Ginny added with a grin.

Ron fell silent, contemplating Ginny's words.

Harry smiled softly. It made him happy to think that his two bestfriends might get together. Although it made him a little sad too. If they did, they would spend less time with him. If they didn't, he just would feel a little out of place, like a third wheel. But it would be great to have two of the people he cared most be happy together.

Harry was semi-lost in his thoughts that he didn't see Ginny's furtive glance.

* * *

"Pansy, just the girl I was looking for," Blaise Zabini said silkily. He was ready to wheedle, flatter and threaten the girl as his smile turned larger, doing his best sales-man and shark impersonation. He tried to look fairly innocuous, but those in Slytherin House knew that Zabini could charm the information out a goblin if need be. 

"Sod off, Zabini. I don't want to talk to you," Pansy said with a flip of her blond hair and went back to reading her fashion magazine.

Zabini's grin became even more charming, his eyes twinkling. "But my dear gel, you should know by now that it doesn't matter if you want to talk to me or not. So be a peach and I'll make this as painless as possible."

"No dice. Besides, there's nothing I know that you would be interested in," Pansy said as nonchalantly as possible.

"Tut-tut sweetcakes. Both you and I know that you and Millicent are planning a rather nasty surprise for our favorite bookworm. And I want to know the details," he said with a wink.

"What is it worth it to you?" Pansy said, smelling a deal.

"Not much really. Of course, I can understand if you don't want Draco to find out about your little romance with Percy Weasley," Zabini said while making a great show of picking lint off his shoulder.

Pansy's eyes narrowed. She didn't know how Blaise knew about that. Not that there had been anything going on between Weasley and herself really. Her father wanted to make sure that Fudge remained as clueless as possible and personally, she had enjoyed confusing the young and impressionable Percy. Despite his girlfriend Penelope, she had been able to wreak havoc in his life.

She weighed her options. Draco had been more standoffish these last few days. She doubted that he would be extremely upset at her if he knew. On the other hand, it had been a Weasley and she knew of the extreme dislike that Draco had against all Weasleys. She remembered Percy's rule as a House Boy and she still disliked him. More importantly, it was no skin off her back to tell Blaise about what she and Millicent were planning to do. It wasn't as if Blaise was going to stop them.

"Really love, you should just let me know. You and I know that it's nothing really," Blaise said cajolingly.

"Well, if you insist," Pansy said a little snottily. "It seems to me that the stupid mudblood needs a makeover. She seriously needs to be a little less hideous." With a malicious grin, she added, "I was thinking a makeover. You know help her with that crinkly, bushy mop of hair. Help her with that complexion of hers, she's almost orange. It would be a public service to all of us."

Blaise grinned. If there was one thing he could count on Pansy for, it was to tell him more than he needed to know. Both Pansy and Millicent, but particularly Pansy, were jealous of Hermione's looks. More importantly, both of them had noticed that Draco had noticed Hermione. The only times Pansy thought about giving another girl one of her infamous makeovers was when the unfortunate victim happened to hold Draco's attention for a few more seconds. Most of the time it was another Slytherin girl that thought she could 'replace' Pansy. The results were always effective and never pretty. "I can't wait," he said with a smile.

"But keep it to yourself. I don't want to ruin the surprise," she smiled thinly.

"No problem darling. I will catch you later," Zabini said smoothly, rising up from the sofa he'd been sitting on. He wondered what would happen if he let this piece of gossip land on Malfoy's desk. He decided he'd let Malfoy know... but only with a few days anticipation and see what their esteemed leader did. At the moment, he had other fish to fry. Time to talk to Luna Lovegood.

Pansy watched him leave with guarded eyes. Technically, Zabini had to keep Malfoy abreast of most things that happened in Slytherin House. He didn't always and Malfoy knew that. She didn't want this piece of information to land on Malfoy's lap quite yet. But she knew if she swore Zabini to secrecy he'd go straight to Malfoy. More importantly, she'd give Zabini something else to blackmail her with. So she played it safe saying she wanted it to be a surprise. With a little luck, Zabini would want to see the reaction on Malfoy's face as well. Putting the matter behind her, she went back to her fashion magazine.

* * *

Unbeknownst to most Hogwarts students, Luna was considered another information broker. She didn't hold her House affiliation and among the network, she was considered a loose canon, mainly because it was almost impossible to separate the nonsense from the real information. But those in the know knew that she had the most astounding powers of observation and her predictions tended to have an 89 accuracy rating, higher than any of the other information brokers. Granted, the 11 missed were enough to make her considered unreliable. 

With her odd quirks and dreamy expression, most people tended to shy away from Luna. Those that actually managed to talk to her either were confused and befuddled about her conversation topics or quickly lost patience with her.

However, Ginny Weasley had not. Even if she wasn't aware of Luna's position within the information network. Ginny liked the other girl for qualities most people tended to miss. She even found her concerns to be a refreshing change from anyone else. More importantly, Luna really listened and her conversation was never boring. As usual, they were sitting in the Astronomy Tower and Luna was making some maps from her notes last night. Ginny was expounding on her usual dilemma.

"I just don't know what to do anymore. I want to tell him but he has so many other important things to deal with. I don't know if telling him will help him or just give him something he shouldn't worry about right now," Ginny said with a sigh, resting on the battered couch in the room.

"Mmmm..." was Luna's response, as she continued to make annotations on her map.

"And I know that he cares. But I don't know how much of it is because I'm just Ron's little sister. Plus, I was such a silly bint my first year that I'm surprised I can still meet him in the eye," Ginny continued bemoaning.

"Ginny, I dare say now that he knows you, he knows _you,_ you're more than just Ron's little sister," Luna responded.

"Fine then, so how do I go about telling him I'd like a date without everyone having a ruddy coronary?" Ginny asked a little flatly, a little annoyed at Luna's serenity.

"I'd say that during an attack of the flying Mimbersnatches you would have a solid chance," Luna answered placidly.

Ginny snorted. "I'd probably have better luck if I clobbered him with a Bludger."

"Who are you plotting against?" Blaise Zabini asked, leaning against the doorway, a very infectious smile on his face.

Ginny, however, had no desire to catch whatever madness Zabini had, so she didn't smile back but instead felt her cheeks color slightly. She didn't know how much the Slytherin had heard but she wasn't going to tell him anything more. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, a little heatedly, at the same time Luna said, rather unruffled, "Hallo, Blaise!"

Ginny just looked startled at Luna. Not that she didn't know who Blaise Zabini was. In retrospect, she knew that most people knew who Blaise was. She, however, had not known that one of her good female friends was in more than friendly speaking terms with the Slytherin. Not that she didn't trust Luna. Even if she didn't trust Luna implicitly, she trusted no one could successfully navigate the vagaries of her speech. Even she had problems following Luna's logic most of the time. If Zabini could decode Luna-speak, she would be more than little frightened. But she doubted that even Zabini's legendary skills could manage to crack Luna-speak.

"Hallo Luna! I decided it was time for my requisite medicine. So I sought you out," Zabini said amiably, and then proceeded to sit on the other side of the couch.

Ginny momentarily thought of standing up but decided that it probably was what Zabini wanted. And the last thing she'd do would be to give the git any satisfaction in knowing he disconcerted her.

"I suppose it is. I take it that you told Pansy that you knew," Luna answered, still writing on her map.

Zabini's eyes twinkled. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. How are the tri-horned baphomets doing this year?"

"Pitifully, I suspect. Russian moss is suffering from a rather dry winter," Luna said warmly.

"More's the pity. So Ms. Weasley, how are those infamous brothers of yours doing? Business going good? Never met a more Slytherin pair, really," Zabini asked as charmingly as possible, turning his attention toward Ginny. Originally, he had come to talk to Luna but thanks to whatever divinity saw fit to give him such tremendous good luck, Virginia Weasley was here too. So he altered his plans. He knew that Luna and Ginny were good friends, but in all his encounters with Luna it had just been by herself. He could talk to Luna privately some other time. Right now, he had a golden opportunity to talk to one Virginia Weasley. He felt his heart rate go a little faster but thought it the consequence of all the flight of stairs up to the Tower.

"They're doing fine," Ginny said a little stiffly.

Luna just looked at her map and smiled.

* * *

Hermione's head hurt. She felt like a number of Blast-Ended Skewerets had decided to recreate the 1812 overture in her head and it had ended in one huge exploding moment. 

Nevermind that she had done this to herself. She had been going inside her head for the last day.

This was not how she had planned to spend her Saturday.

Ruddy Draco Malfoy. It was all his fault. Since the beginning of this year he had been one gargantuan problem. Not that Hermione was willing to admit that he had become a different sort of problem. But her mind, no, rather her hormones were getting smart mouthed on this account and told her things she rather not think about. Her own denial was not something she was quite ready to accept.

So she had spent most of the morning trying to explain away Malfoy's odd behavior and her own unbelievably stranger reactions. And this, of course, had gotten her nowhere with one heck of a migraine.

Tired, grumpy and resolved not to think anymore she decided she was better off at the Gryffindor Tower.

But life is perverse and the minute she was about to step **out** the portrait hole was precisely the exact moment that Draco Malfoy would choose to step **in.**

So Hermione found herself a scant few inches from the one person she had been thinking about and wishing she hadn't been and the one person she had been determined to avoid for the rest of the weekend because she didn't know what to do around him but of course life had to be a sadist and place him close enough to kiss. All she had to do was reach out and pull down on that lovely cashmere sweater and then...

Those were the thoughts that came crashing into Hermione's mind as she sort of stood there and Draco stood there, at an impasse. One of them would have to move to let the other pass. But neither of them seemed to be able to move. Really it was his gaze that held her there. She was perfectly capable of movement, thank you very much.

Malfoy just seemed to be looking at her, and she really couldn't read his expression. Not that she had been particularly adroit at reading his expressions before. But most of the time, he didn't look her way. And if he did, it was with a sneer or a taunt or disgust plainly written on his face. If anyone would have asked her before this year, she would have told them that Malfoy had the emotional range of a newt and the facial expressions of a rabid gorilla.

Now, he simply didn't make sense in her mind. Not that he wasn't an arrogant, egotistic prat. Not that he wasn't horrible, mean and possibly a Death Eater. But he no longer was two-dimensional. Those weren't the only things he was.

And it disturbed her. Greatly.

For all her Gryffindor pride and courage, Hermione Granger did the only thing that she felt safe in doing. "Will you let me pass?" she asked a little tentatively. She hated herself for it. She didn't want to talk to Malfoy. Didn't want to think. But she couldn't bring herself to be rude. Especially after last night. Somehow, she felt vulnerable and didn't know why and hated it. The entire situation was a little too worrisome for her.

In one fluid motion, Draco stepped aside, leaving barely enough room for her to pass by. She knew that she would walk frighteningly close to him. Close enough to brush bodies. Close enough to smell the cologne he wore.

Hermione concentrated on walking.

_Left foot._

_Right foot. _

_Breathe in. _

_Breathe out. _

_Just look ahead. _

_Breathe in. _

_Breathe out._

She had almost made it past him when his hand shot out and grabbed her elbow. She turned around startled.

He just looked at her. Another intense, searing look. Another look that she didn't know what it meant. Or if she did, she wasn't ready to accept what it was. Another look that disturbed her.

He let go of her arm and Hermione turned back around and fled to the safety of the Gryffindor world.

* * *

He hadn't meant to touch her. 

Draco had been contemplating what to do with the 'Granger situation'. It had progressed to the point it need a proper name. Not that he wasn't hell bent on making her want him. She simply didn't respond in the ways he predicted. Not that he wasn't aware of her confusion. That he had predicted. It was the other turbulent feelings she seemed to show. Or didn't want to show.

It wasn't as if Draco hadn't played this game before. He just never had an opponent like Granger before. Who was a girl but didn't follow any of the patterns that girls normally followed.

Draco didn't bother in analyzing his feelings. He knew he thought her pretty. He knew he wanted to make her want him. But he wasn't about to think about the reasons for all these thoughts.

But he hadn't meant to reach out and touch her. He didn't know why he did it. For a strange reason, he had to stop her. It was like she was slipping away. He knew that she was running away. He was the reason she was running away. He took pride in that. But that didn't explain the strange sense of loss he felt as he watched her go.

Once he touched her, he didn't know what to do.

But it was just a game. Just to prove her wrong. Just to show her that he could make her want him. He liked seeing her discomfort. Liked to look at her and know that he could affect her. Liked to know that he could have her attention. He liked to see her hesitant. She was too fierce and independent. She disregarded the rules. Not that he didn't usually approve of such behavior... but he just liked to see her unsure, tentative.

He went to his room and started to strum his guitar. The words flowed through him.

_If I fall along the way_

_Pick me up and dust me off_

_And if I get too tired to make it_

_Be my breath so I can walk_

_If I couldn't sleep could you sleep_

_Could you paint me better off_

_Could you sympathize with my needs_

_I know you think I need a lot_

_I started out clean but I'm jaded_

_Just phoning it in_

_Just breaking the skin_

_Can you help me I'm bent_

_I'm so scared that I'll never_

_Get put back together_

_You're breaking me in_

_And this is how we will end_

_With you and me bent_

_Start bending me_

_It's never enough_

_I feel all your pieces_

_Start bending me_

_Keep bending me until I'm completely broken in_

_Shouldn't be so complicated_

_Just touch me and then_

_Just touch me again..._

* * *

Author's Note: Comments and Reviews always appreciated. And yeah, I'm having Draco and Hermione go through a conflicting period. If I found myself attracted to a life-long enemy, I'd suffer from some good old fashioned denial and teenage angst. I'd also lie to myself for a while. 

One Question: Are my main characters two-dimensional? Since neither Hermione nor Draco are the focus of the JKR's stories, I want to flesh them out a little.


	15. Chapter 15: Underneath My Skin

**Disclaimer:** All characters are owned by JKR. The song Blaise Zabini is writing is "Pretty Piece of Flesh" from One Inch Punch

**Plot:** Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble.

**Author's Notes:** THANKS for the reviews. Sorry for the delay but this is one of my longer chapters. It took me a while to write.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Underneath My Skin**

**

* * *

**

Blaise Zabini was thinking.

But the word 'thinking' does not even begin to cover the complex logical sequences and convoluted machinations and vivid imagery that went on in the mind of this Zabini. If one were to liken the firings of the mental synapses going on in his brain to something, it would be to the floor of a stock exchange center, so many different things going on that you really didn't know what to pay attention to.

And everyone knew something was underfoot when Blaise became pensive.

Thus, Blaise had early on developed a system to confuse those that watched him. He never appeared pensive. He never stared off into space. He had mastered the art of multi-tasking, partitioning his mind to ponder his affairs as he did other things. Like homework. Or in this case, composing song lyrics.

_I will split you in two _

_Shake shake shake boom _

_I strike, quickly being bold _

_You're all, you're all dogs _

_You're just dogs of the house _

_You're weak, weak, weak, weak slaves _

_The weak slave goes to the wall_

Normally, he enjoyed writing song lyrics, his feet tapping out a rhythm following the cadences of the syllables. But at this particular moment, Blaise was analyzing his conversation with one Ginevra Weasley.

_'Cause I am _

_I am that pretty piece of flesh _

_I am a pretty piece of flesh _

_I am a pretty piece of flesh _

_I am a pretty piece of flesh, I am_

**Flashback**  
"So, who were you planning to Bludger? If it is me, I hope you will at least do me the courtesy of telling me beforehand. As a fellow Quidditch player, I'd appreciate it," he said mildly. He'd blame his insatiable curiosity and his acute sense of hearing. Or he'd blame his natural propensity for information searching. He just couldn't resist finding out what Ginny had been talking about.

She smiled thinly at him. "Don't worry Zabini. It's not you," she said in a tone that clearly indicated the matter was closed.

Blaise shrugged off the warning. He wouldn't be who he was if he didn't ignore such things on a daily basis. "That's a relief. It's nice to think that this idea of inter-house unity works and that there aren't rogue bludgers out to get me. My fan club would be disappointed if anything did happen to me. Outside the Quidditch field of course. You play a mean game too. I always have said girls are more vicious than boys," he kept on talking. Merlin! He was babbling. He ignored the amused look on Luna's eyes. "I imagine growing up with your brothers you must give them a run for their money," he finished lamely. _Great you idiot!_ His mind screamed at him. He had to mention money, she probably thought that he was pointing out that her family was notoriously strapped.

Ginny just gave him a scrutinizing look. Perhaps he had grown daft. "Is that why _you_ change into a girl?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.  
**End of Flashback**

_Go, go, foes can never measure to the crew as we go on _

_Blast their angers in the back with their soul on _

_A pretty piece of flesh and yes, you better show your crest _

_Shoulder holster strapped, I'm pulling from the chest _

_Guess who's gonna be the first to pull it from you? _

_But if the steel seal represents a blood feud_

_Lovelorn torn from two sides, singin' at dark skies _

_To the heavens, I'll be seeing worlds collide _

She had been suspicious. He could tell that she hadn't liked it when he had sat down on the couch next to her but wasn't about to let him know. Of course, Blaise was quite adept at reading all the tell-tale signs, the rigid posture, the guarded look in her eyes. She was definitely hostile, but mindful enough not to let it show completely. He knew that approaching her would be difficult. Beyond the entire Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, there was the entire affluence issue that needed to be addressed. Zabini knew the financial state of the Weasley family let much to be desired. She probably thought he was a pampered git, which he was… to a certain extent.

It looked like getting her to talk to him about her experience with the Dark Lord would be impossible. If Blaise were a betting man, and he was, he would have bet that he would fail in this endeavor. But that's because Blaise was nobody's fool.

He also wasn't a quitter.

He'd get Ginevra Weasley to talk to him even if it meant taking on the entire Weasley clan. And the famous Saintly Potter himself.

_Chi chi bow stars and bottle rocket fantasies _

_But on the streets. some knights and killers. they be after me _

_Trippin' on ether under moonlight skies _

_But then, you wake up in the danger zone on dragon rides _

_I'm dodgin' hexes and bangs, it's hard to hang _

_Going a hundred miles an hour like a shooting star _

_Rollin' brick thick and crystal thinking nothin' can faze me _

_With nickel plated wand slingin', livin' is crazy_

**Flashback**  
He was, decidedly amused. Ginny had spunk. Most people he knew, even within his own House simply avoided the matter. For those in the know, the Zabini family was known for having 'peculiarities'. In his father's case, he enjoyed sleeping in a coffin. His mother engaged in regular affairs with other women. Of course, no one spoke of these 'eccentricities'.

"I do it to feel pretty," he said, batting his eyelashes at her, doing the best poof impersonation of his life. Despite his perchance for turning into a girl, he really wasn't attracted to men. Even as a girl.

Ginny snorted at him.

It was probably one of the most unladylike things he had ever seen. None of the Slytherin girls would have done it in front of him. And he loved her for it.  
**End of Flashback**

_Stars collide, worlds divide with a pretty piece of flesh _

_Your little pretty piece of flesh _

_Stars collide, worlds divide with a pretty piece of flesh _

_Your little pretty piece of flesh_

Blaise looked at the music and the song lyrics he had been writing. And it surprised him. But before he could analyze them closer, Draco Malfoy swooped in and sat in front of him. Draco didn't offer up a word and just demanded his attention. With a look.

He straightened up and asked, "What Draco?"

"I want a dossier on Granger. Everything that anyone knows about her. Including the things she doesn't know herself," Draco said curtly.

Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Not that its any of your business Zabini. I want the dossier by the end of the week," Draco said before he stood up and left as abruptly as he had showed up.

Blaise groaned mentally. Not that he wasn't interested in why Draco would suddenly require an extensive and intensive dossier on one Hermione Granger. Not that it wasn't his business. Any and all information were always his business. Granted, on certain aspects it was easy to obtain information on 'high profile' students, such as Granger. Yet he did not relish the idea of dealing with the information brokers of Gryffindor.

But if Draco requested a dossier on such a short notice then he better get to it. Blaise wondered if he still had any firewhisky left. He always needed a stiff drink after talking to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

On the other hand, he thought cheerfully, Draco Malfoy was soon to owe him one fat favor.

* * *

Hermione had fun the rest of the weekend. She had missed spending time with Ron and Harry. Coincidentally, she had run into Ron on the way to the Gryffindor Tower. They had started talking and life suddenly became normal again.

She spent most of the weekend at Gryffindor Tower. Oh, she still slept in her Head Girl room – but she arrived late and left early. She had asked Adalbert if Draco had been in before she decided to enter but in both instances Draco had been out and it suited Hermione fine.

She had taken her homework with her, working on Arithmancy problems with Seamus, asked Neville how his Advanced Herbology projects were coming along, and she had fun with the Transformation homework – which consisted of turning Cornish pixies into candles. Well, she did the charm perfectly. She had fun when Dean Thomas knocked into Lavender, setting her pixie loose and they had to run all over the Gryffindor Tower trying to catch it.

They also had fun putting out the fire on the couch when the pixie took a hot coal and tossed it on Colin Creevey's lap. Colin got up so quickly that the coal rolled onto the couch and a pillow burst into flame.

She had forgotten how exciting living in Gryffindor Tower really was. Draining as well. Something always seemed to be happening, regardless of the hour of the day.

Ron and Harry had been extremely pleased to see her all weekend: Harry in his quiet, intense, small smiles and Ron in his blustering comments and laughs. And she had missed them sorely.

So on Monday morning, when her booming alarm sounded and she grabbed her customary shower before breakfast, Hermione's spirit was soothed and her confidence reassured. If Malfoy wanted to be a bloody freak, it was none of her concern. She had other things to occupy her mind with. Nothing that Malfoy was engaged in – aside from Death Eater business – interested her. At all.

So why did she watch the Slytherin table during breakfast? Why did she notice that Malfoy preferred apple jelly to orange marmalade and ate his buttered toast with his right hand and drank tea with his left hand?

And had she been momentarily distracted during Arithmancy class wondering if her hair looked acceptable this morning?

Thankfully, Ron's and Harry's chatter kept her mind occupied during the rest of the morning classes. Not that she hadn't had an invigorating talk with Seamus during Arithmancy but she could feel Malfoy's eyes on her back. Not that she turned around to check and see. She wasn't afraid of Malfoy. She simply didn't care, she told herself.

Unfortunately for Hermione, lunch proved to be her undoing. She and Malfoy just sort of locked eyes toward the end of the meal, once everyone had shifted from eating voraciously to eating and talking at the same time.

She held his gaze, afraid to look at him, afraid to look away. In turmoil, she tried to sort her feelings, grasping at the things she knew. She didn't want to feel like anything had changed because she really wasn't afraid. Whatever it was, it didn't matter to her. She was Hermione Granger. He was Draco Malfoy and other than being a bloody git and a nuisance, he meant nothing to her.

But that is when her sentiments betrayed her, when the thought passed by her mind, _You fancy him_, flashing in giant neon letters and the impossible happened.

Hermione Granger blushed.

And looked down, hiding her gaze underneath her lashes. Suddenly, she felt exposed, vulnerable. She tried struggled with her denial, struggled to voice her vehement opposition. But it was impossible to hide from yourself, wasn't it? Impossible to run. Impossible to stop the chanting of the thought – _You fancy him­ _– in her head.

Such a monumental occurrence did not escape the notice of those around her. Ron, with his characteristic bluntness and honesty asked, with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "'Ermione, you a-right? You look red!"

Shaken from her own interior dilemma, Hermione's mind went directly to survival. Deny all allegations. Pretend everything was okey. Surely, even if she was fancying that ruddy ferret at the moment, no one else should have to know about it. Nothing was going on as far as her friends were concerned. This was her problem to deal with. Surely in a few weeks, the infatuation would come to pass and none would be the wiser. "Everythings okay. Just a little hot, that's all," she said a little too hurriedly and with a little too much casualness. She needed to distract them, make sure that they didn't notice what the cause was.

"You sure? Your face is all flushed. Are you coming down with a cold?" Harry asked, his green eyes concerned.

"If you are, stay away from Harry and Ron! We need them to be hale and strong to beat Ravenclaw next week," Dean Thomas piped in.

"Perhaps you should go to see Madame Pomfrey," Neville added helpfully.

"You want me to walk with you to the infirmary?" Ginny offered.

"If you don't mind, Ginny," Hermione said, desperate to get out of the Great Hall. She would have normally shaken her head but in this case, she would acquiesce and be meek. She really didn't feel that good. But figuring out you fancied your worst nightmare was bound to make anyone feel sick.

This startled all those present. Both of Harry's and Ron's eyes widened in concern. Harry nudged Ron and they got up as well and escorted Ginny and Hermione out of the Great Hall.

Surrounded by her friends, Hermione did not look back.

* * *

Draco made his way to the Prefect meeting, not paying attention to the trailing huddle of girls that followed him. His mind was occupied with what had happened during the Great Hall. Not that he wasn't pleased with the confirmation. He liked knowing that Granger was aware of him. Not just in her 'oh-you're-a-boy-but-that's-okey-we-can-still-be-friends' platonic way that she had around the other males in school. Not in the 'you're-the-scum-of-the-earth' way she had for most Slytherins. Not in the 'you-are-a-bloody-prat-of-a-ferret-and-if-I-wasn't-Head-Girl-I'd-hex-you' manner she normally had around him.

This was the kind of tingling skin, in drawn breath kind of awareness.

It wasn't enough for Draco. He didn't know why. Originally, he had just wanted Granger to acknowledge that he was the most desirable male on this campus. He did that. He knew that she was attracted. And it pleased him. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more.

Boot and Pucey had been right. It would be quite a coup if he could seduce her under the noses of Pothead and Weasel. Especially since the Weasel was panting after her so badly and noticeably. Of course, _she_ hadn't noticed.

That in of itself was a powerful attractor to Draco. She really wasn't aware of herself. His mind remembered when he had found her asleep on that couch, the golden skin, the soft curling hair. He had that image seared into his mind. It was so potent that he had the best wank of his life this weekend. He would remember her, her long legs, the underwear peeking from underneath her bathrobe, her completely unguarded face and it made his blood run hot.

Knowing that she slept but a few feet away just seemed to increase the sexual tension. This entire weekend Draco had wondered what it would be like to have her naked and willing in her virginal red and gold bed. And then in their bathroom. And in their common room. And his room. In the shower. On the couch. Over a desk. Against a wall. The possibilities and combinations were endless in the mind of a lusty 18 year old.

"Well, now that our Head Boy is here, we can begin the meeting," McGonagall's clipped voice broke into Draco's fevered fantasies.

Draco snapped out of whatever trance he had been and took a quick survey of the room. The prefects were there but Hermione wasn't. Professor McGonagall looked coolly at him. "Where is Granger?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing at the scowling Weasel prat.

"Ms. Granger is feeling under the weather at the moment so she has been excused from the meeting. You will have to run it by yourself," McGonagall answered frostily before Weasel King could say anything.

Draco took a look at the board in which there was words "Halloween Ball" jumped at him. "Right. The Halloween Ball," he drawled, trying not to show how unprepared he really was. He remembered last year's rather insipid celebration and the prefectual duties then. "Since the Ball is a few weeks away, each Prefect will be assigned a duty," he said. This really wasn't that much more difficult than a Slytherin House meeting he had to preside over. Less fractitious definitely. He certainly did not have to worry about opposition to his plans from Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws or Slytherins. Of course, he could do without having to look at the bloody Weasel tosser, but these things can't be helped. All that red hair was curse enough.

McGonagall did not say anything, just letting Draco run the meeting. Not that Draco cared what that old bat had to say. He knew that she disliked him and that was all fine and dandy. Besides, he'd have to fight Weasel and then Granger about this anyway. The old hag probably thought it was beneath her to fight with a mere Slytherin student.

After a brief discussion, it was decided that the first through third years would be allowed to stay up until after dinner, during the first half of the ball and after the half-hour concert. Fourth through Seventh years would be allowed to stay until the Witching Hour. The Ravenclaws were in charge of the activities, Hufflepuffs in charge of the food. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin were put in charge of the decorations and music since neither group wanted to budge on the issue of the music or the decorations. And Draco wasn't sure that he trusted either Millicent to be close to him or the Weasel with Granger, so he lumped them together. The idiot had made it much too easy at him, glaring and putting up an argument to this or that. Draco's patience had been stretched thin at that point when he snapped at Weasel and put him in charge of decorations.

Now came what Draco knew would be the most heinous battle of all – picking a band for the requisite short concert. He already knew that the Weird Sisters were out, they were touring Russia this year. He knew that the Druids were out, no one had enjoyed them last year. He expected a long and fruitless discussion of what to do.

He certainly didn't expect for his band to be nominated as a possible candidate.

And he certainly hadn't anticipated the level of enthusiasm from all Houses. Even the Gryffindors seemed amenable to the idea, not counting the Weasel King. That one could be counted on to hate him to the end of his ragtag days. As one Ravenclaw had said, 'wouldn't it be so cool to have a band from school play?, an event that had not happened in Hogwart's history. Yet.

Fortunately, the Weasel's protests had been drowned out by the excitement and approval of everyone else. Draco had not uttered a word during the pitched battle that the Weasel had waged against all the other prefects. He could tell that McGonagall had wanted to said something but refrained from interrupting what she believed was a democratic process, students in action bullcrap. It was quite obvious to Draco that the Weasel King would lose, but felt a disdainful respect for the fact that he kept fighting until the end. Of course, the only thing that _one_ knew how to do was fight, he never stopped to think. Must be the red hair. His sister was the same way.

So Draco, despite his unflappable façade, left the Prefect meeting thinking about the upcoming concert. They had played for the school before but never for a formal event. He headed to his common room, his head buzzing with details, the need for preparation. He'd have to talk to the others soon.

He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he forgot completely about his musings about Granger until he stepped into his common room and found her on the couch, reading. He stopped short, everything he had been thinking about before the prefect meeting came slamming into his consciousness and he drew in a breath. She looked like she had been engrossed in her book, dressed comfortably in flannel pajamas and had clearly expected the meeting to take longer than what it had. She was tense and looked like she didn't know if to leave or stay put.

"Feeling better Granger?" he asked as he made his way casually toward his desk, his eyes intent on her. He didn't feel casual but Granger didn't know him well enough to read the tension in his body. If she had been a Slytherin girl, she would have understood. Hell, if she had been a girl that knew what sex was, she would have understood. But she wasn't and it fascinated Draco.

"Yes," she answered, guarded. She didn't know what to do. She was finally aware of the situation vis a vie her own attraction, but she still didn't know what to do about it. Draco would have to nudge her in the right direction. _His_ direction.

"Good," he said, dropping his books on his desk and taking off his robe. He turned around and saw that she was staring at her book, trying to ignore him. Pretending that nothing had changed. "You missed nothing at the meeting. I'm sure that the Gryffindor prefects will fill you in on the details," he added.

She didn't respond. Still ignoring him. Still pretending.

Draco smirked. "Well, if you have no objections, I am going to draw a bath. See you later," he said, taking off his sweater and loosening his tie.

He heard the indrawn breath, faint but swift. He smirked devilishly at himself. He wasn't going to be the only one picturing somebody else naked. And it gave him a perverse satisfaction to know that she knew that he was going to be buck naked. A scant few feet away.

The thought of her knowing of his state of undress was such a turn on to Draco that he was getting stiff. He smiled wickedly at himself thinking he'd wank off in the shower and wondered what Granger would say if she knew that.

* * *

"Harry? May I have a word with you?" Professor Tara's mellifluous voice stopped Harry Potter from exiting her classroom. The Survival Club had just finished another meeting. This time, she had been teaching them how to bind several kinds of wounds, make splints for broken bones and identify several medicinal plants. Because, as she had drilled into their heads, you never knew if you would be able to rely on your wand to do any of these things.

"Yes Professor Tara? What can I do for you?" Harry asked respectfully. In fact, Harry had a great deal of respect and admiration for Professor Tara. Her classes were grueling but with a practical bent. Harry didn't mind the extra work and neither did former DA members. Probably because the lessons and skills learnt in her class would soon be put to practical use.

"You seemed distracted this session," Professor Tara observed, her tone mild. Her concern was evident but she didn't want to overburden the bright, young man. He already seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Harry hesitated before answering. To be honest, he had been distracted most of the school year and it had only begun. Not that the other teachers had chastised him about it. Even Snape had just been his usual greasy snappish self. "I have a lot of my mind," Harry answered neutrally and ambiguously.

"Ah," Professor Tara said. "Yes, I suppose that as your last year at school your mind is left pondering your future," she broached the subject.

Harry smiled without humor. He wasn't looking forward to graduating Hogwarts. Even back in the Fifth year, he had. He remembered Professor McGonagall screeching at the horrible Umbridge cow about how she would help him become an Auror. Even then, his future was promising. There would be a life after Voldemort. Now, he wasn't as sure.

"Harry, I have been informed of your situation. If you don't mind some unsolicited words, I'd like to give you something else to think about," Professor Tara said gently.

Harry just looked silently at her.

"You will find that the biggest challenges will come after the war but also the greatest opportunities. There, you will have a chance to be more than just the Boy-Who-Lived. And it takes more courage to rebuild than to go to war," she said, her expression kind.

Harry nodded at her and left, pensive.

* * *

Hermione Granger had forgotten how to breathe. After Malfoy left the room, she had to consciously concentrate and remind herself to inhale and exhale in a rhythmic pattern.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

He was going to be naked. Hell, he probably was _already _naked. Water running down that lovely, lean and muscular body of his, skin glistening from soap…

A thought broke past her desire induced haze. A very panicking thought. The kind that sets off the giant fog alarms in one's head and has gigantic DANGER signals flashing.

He knew.

_Bloody hell._

Ruddy Malfoy knew that she was attracted to him. He had left her know that he knew by telling her that he was going to be naked. He was probably going to sadistically torture her for at least the rest of the term, taunting her with her own desire. If it were any other boy, she could at least ask them out to Hogsmeade.

But no, she was attracted to a bloody pureblooded prat that would take any of her interest and throw it back in her face and humiliate her simply because she was muggle-born. This was more than plain girl fancies most handsome boy in school scenario. This was bookworm extraordinaire, hated enemy girl fancies pureblooded, most handsome and sought after boy that thinks she is a dirty mudblood, lower than dirt. It made her scowl and it made her want to cry.

Suddenly, she didn't want to be in the common room anymore. She stormed into her room and realized he was still in the bathroom. She could hear the shower, the water splashing against the tiles. Her heart was racing.

Just a few feet away was the boy she wanted, buck naked, taking a shower. The first boy she wanted.

Hermione Granger closed her eyes against the dueling aches in her heart. She wanted him but she couldn't have him. Because he wouldn't want her, could never want her. More importantly, she shouldn't be attracted to him. But she was.

Hermione Granger closed her eyes and made a decision. She wasn't going to let Draco Malfoy get to her. She was attracted but she was not, under any circumstance, going to act on it. There would be other boys. Other boys that she could ask to Hogsmeade. Other boys that could like her back. And none of them would despise her simply because she was muggleborn.

Still, she stood there, looking at the door that led to their bathroom until the water stopped splashing against the tiles.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Fixed the Prefect meeting to include Ron and previous mentions of Ron being a prefect. 


	16. Chapter 16: The Rumor Mill

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potterish belong to JKR.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the extended delay. Between work and a personal problem, I just haven't felt like writing a budding romance. Thanks for the patience.

I made up the names for certain Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The last names however I got off and are related to the Harry Potter world, just to make it more plausible.

I also made up a lot of Hermione's personal information. If somebody does know the correct official information for anything listed below, please let me know.

Hopefully all the inconsistencies have been fixed. If not, drop me a note. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Rumor Mill**

**

* * *

**

Blaise Zabini poured himself one stiff drink and drowned the firewhiskey in one big gulp. He felt he was entitled to it. Shit, he knew he was entitled to it. As he felt the whiskey burn itself down his body, he smiled at himself. It had been hell. Sheer and utter hell. But he had done it.

It had taken him the better part of four days to compile the information. He had approached some of the lesser players to collect some of the more basic information, like a class list and other such things. It had taken about 36 hours before the Gryffindor brokers caught wind of what he was doing and basically positioned themselves in the Great Hall, strategically close to a very private nook that most people didn't know existed. He knew when he sighted them that _they knew_. He decided it was best to just gear up and get the details no other information broker had, because as he had been informed by other sources, Hermione Granger had shared a room with Misses Brown and Patil up until this very year. Six years of living with Granger was bound to yield exclusive information.

And Draco had commissioned a _complete_ dossier.

The session had been pure torture. Lavender and Parvati knew that he needed the information and had played him with finesse. Not that he would have ever publicly admit that they had the upper hand. He had managed to work a nice enough deal with them, escape with his pride more or less intact and had in his possession the information he needed.

As well as the location of one Colin Creevey, who he summarily went in search for. He wanted to be done as soon as possible.

It would take him another 6 hours to get the dossier ready. But then, then he could claim the prize that he wanted.

Blaise Zabini smiled and poured himself another drink. Draco Malfoy was going to owe him. Big time.

While Blaise Zabini was compiling all the information he had collected, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were in one deep and intense conversation.

* * *

"So WHY do you think he's asking all this information?" Lavender queried Parvati. 

"Isn't it obvious? It's for one of his bloody dossiers. Everyone knows that Zabini compiles the best information reports," Parvati said, flicking her long braid behind her.

"I'm not stupid! Of course I know that! The question is WHO commissioned it. And more importantly, why would Zabini willingly contact an official information broker?" Lavender chided Parvati.

Parvati frowned. It was obviously an outside job. No Slytherin could possibly be interested in Hermione. But why not use their own official information broker? Unless the guy didn't want his entire house know that he was interested. At the same time, the guy obviously wanted to signal that his interest was genuine by letting Lavender and her know. The guy had to be filthy rich though. Zabini's prices were steep.

"Who in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff has enough money to commission work from Zabini?" she asked.

"What years? It must be either sixth or seventh. Maybe a fifth, but I doubt it," Lavender answered, thinking about boys that could possibly even think about dating the Gryffindor Miss Perfect.

"Consider the fifth years, just in case," Parvati counseled.

"In Ravenclaw, there is Steward Ackerley, Frank Lochrin, William Ollerton the Second, and Paul Summerbee the Sixth. In Hufflepuff, there is Owen Cauldwell, Leonard Marchbanks, Kyle McDonald, Michael Smethwyck, and Gilbert Wigworthy," Lavender counted off the names using her fingers.

Both of the girls considered the names on the list. None of them seemed right. Several of the boys were already dating somebody else. And two of them were known to be gay. And Paul Summerbee the Sixth was a known womanizer. More importantly, none of them would have hesitated in using their own information broker or would be the type to be attracted to Hermione's type. It didn't bloody make sense. Who had commissioned the report?

"It couldn't have been a Gryffindor, Zabini would have rubbed it in our faces," Lavender said.

"It couldn't have been a Slytherin either," Parvati voiced her previous thought out loud.

Lavender stilled for a moment and her eyes narrowed in speculation, as if analyzing a fact in her head with intense scrutiny. "Unless…" she started to say.

"Unless what?" Parvati asked, relishing the look on Lavender's face.

"Unless no one commissioned the work," Lavender said gleefully, voicing her suspicions. And if they weren't correct, they would make for the most interesting table talk of the month. And maybe, just maybe, they would find out the real reason why Zabini was asking for information about Hermione.

"Which means that its _Zabini_ is the one that is interested in Hermione!" Parvati shrieked. This had to be the juiciest rumor to have ever graced Hogwarts in their seven years: Blaise Zabini fancied Hermione Granger.

And **_this_ **is how gossip gets started at Hogwarts.

If anything the information brokers from Gryffindor House excel at, it is gossip.

* * *

Draco Malfoy looked at the leather bound folder in front of him. Not that he had doubted Zabini's ability. Blaise was good at what he did. He was just surprised at the efficiency. He also knew he had not given Zabini an easy task. He wasn't going to question how Zabini had gotten the work done, merely that it had been done and in the time frame stated. 

He looked at the customary black folder, darker than Hecate's soul and turned Zabini's cryptic words over and over. He knew that he owed Blaise big time. It had been an intensive, comprehensive dossier that he had asked for. Rush job as well. And usually Zabini would have collected his payment and been along his merry way. This time however, Blaise had asked for a boon to called forth at a moment of his making. Now, Draco knew that he had been caught in a fine mess. He disliked extremely owing Zabini such a _carte blanche_ but at the same time, he could not refused. He had commissioned the work and it would reflect poorly as his position of Slytherin Prince to waste the information broker's services. Almost as importantly, one should never, ever, anger your House's information broker. You never knew when his or her services would come in handy. Reliable information was worth its weight in gold, and then some.

He opened the folder and started reading.

It was all there. He read through the basic facts.

_Full Name: Hermione Jane Granger_

_Birthday: September 19, 1979_

_Parents Names: Philip Augustus Granger and Janet Marie Granger (nee Parker)_

_Their Professions: Dentists_

_Home Address: 1489 Bollingbrook Road, Sussex, England_

Current income: Fluctuating between 70,000 pounds and 100,000 pounds a year. Fairly lucrative clientele.

Draco had to give Zabini credit. And once again wondered how the hell Zabini found out the things he found out. It wasn't like the Grangers had an account in Gringotts.

_Height: 5'5_

_Weight: 122 pounds_

_Measurements: 34 – 29 - 32_

_Bra Size: 34B _

Draco made a mental note of her measurements and her bra size. _Always good to know, _he thought to himself.

_Hogwarts House: Gryffindor_

_Honors Held: Acclaimed First Year for her use of cool intellect; Dubbed the 'Smartest Witch in Hogwarts'; Holds the record for most OWLS in a year; Prefect for Fifth and Sixth Year; Head Girl Seventh Year; Possible Valedictorian; Student that has read the most books from the Hogwarts Library, currently with 689 books and counting._

_School Schedule for the Year: Advanced Herbology, Advanced Potions, Advanced Arithmancy, Advanced Care of Magical Creatures, Advanced Transfigurations, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, Advanced Runes, Advanced Charms_

Draco begrudgingly admired her scholastic aptitude and it didn't surprise him that she was the brains in the idiotic Golden Trio. He was actually surprised that Pothead and Weasel took as many advanced classes as they did.

Favorite Subject: Arithmancy Least Favorite Subject: Divination 

_Wand Type: Vinewood, Dragon Heartstring core, 10 inches. Excellent for Transfiguration and Charms. Good for protective spells. Purchased in Ollivanders, First Year._

_Extracurricular Activities: Founding member of Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (SPEW), Fourth Year. Part of Dumbledore's Army, Fifth Year. Current member of the Survival Club, Seventh Year. Assorted adventures with one Harry Potter and one Ronald Weasley, all officially unconfirmed_

_Favorite Color: Periwinkle Blue_

_Her Pets Name: Crookshanks, cat. Half Kneazle, unspecified origin. Purchased in Diagon Alley, 3rd Year._

_Closest Associates: Harry James Potter, Gryffindor; Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor; Ginevra Molly Weasley, Gryffindor_

Draco turned the page and started reading about her preferences. There were a lot of things he realized he knew about her as he read down the list, all because he shared quarters with her. He knew that she liked to shower in the mornings, liked chocolate éclairs and hot chocolate. He knew that she preferred simple scents, mainly floral in nature that seduced in their simplicity. He knew that she favored comfort over fashion, and muggle clothing over Wizards robes. As he leafed through the lengthy report, something caught his eye on page 4.

_Possible Romantic Relationships: Viktor Krum, 4th Year, possibly continuing as they continue to owl each other; Harry Potter, unconfirmed rumor; Ronald Weasley, unconfirmed rumor_

Not that it surprised Draco. Of course, everyone believed that Granger was having an affair-fling-secret relationship with other the Saintly Potter or the Weasel King. Wouldn't that be a fucking fairy tale ending? The Gryffindor Princess in the arms of one her two bestfriends. Fucking wankers.

No, what had really caught Draco's attention and made something twist in her gut was her continued contact with Viktor Krum. When they had first met, it had been during their fourth year and even though they weren't children, Hermione had been young. Viktor was older, more experienced and even when he wasn't as handsome as some people Draco knew, he was an internationally famous Quidditch player. Hell, Draco even remembered how the Weasel had made an arse out of himself for most of the year. He had practically been green with jealousy._ Were they still together?_ Somehow, the possibility bothered Draco.

Draco continued to stare at the phrase "possibly continuing together as they continue to owl each other". He couldn't very well intercept Granger's correspondence. Not that it was outside his power… it simply was a logistical nightmare since Granger did not own an owl for personal use. He frowned.

He flipped through the rest of the report and saw that at the very end Zabini had attached some candid shots of Granger. All of them were probably taken by the Creevey kid, since a few of them were taken in the Gryffindor common room. He looked at one in which Granger was laughing, sheer joy and merriment was oozing out of her. He'd never seen her so happy and it struck him as strange. It was almost like she was a different person. A girl he didn't know.

Draco closed the report but couldn't get the image of a laughing Hermione out of his mind.

* * *

Hermione sighed for the 425th time in the last four days. Ever since she had decided to simply ignore Malfoy, she had buried herself in work. She had finished all her essays, met with all the Prefects to brief them on expectations and hear about their plans for the upcoming masquerade. She had been surprised to hear that Malfoy's band would be playing simply because she thought Ron would have stormed out of the meeting. Apparently, his objections had been drowned out by the fangirl swooning and shrieking of the female prefects who have previously seen Malfoy in dragon skin pants. Not that Hermione could blame them. Malfoy in those leather pants were dead sexy. 

Hermione winced. She hadn't meant to think about Malfoy. Or how sexy he was. But she didn't seem to be able to stop herself. Ever since he came back from the prefect's meeting, and basically told her, with that smirk of his and that smoky voice that _he knew_ about her crush, Hermione had not been able to construct scenarios in her head. In some of those scenarios, he humiliated her by cruelly rebuffing her as a stupid mudblood. In others, he just grinned wickedly at her before kissing her and _then_ cruelly rebuffing her as a stupid mudblood. But in some, obviously induced by romantic hormones and sheer lunacy, he kissed her and didn't stop kissing her.

But Hermione turned away from dealing with the major issues in her life to deal with minor ones. Like Ron Weasley being in charge of decorations for the masquerade, which made her want to wince because Ron could just very well be colorblind. She remembered when she had to explain the difference between white and off-white and Ron had simply argued that there was no difference and she was being anal-retentive. She was actually waiting for Ron and Harry to come out of their Divination class so that she could talk to Ron about the decorations.

"Hermione, are you busy?" Seamus Finnegan's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione looked up from _Halloween Décor Throughout the Centuries_ she had been reading half-heartedly, trying to get ideas. Seamus was looking at her with a lopsided smile, and his Arithmancy book in his right hand. "No, just a little reading," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Ah, I was wondering if you could mind helping me with the last Arithmancy problem, it's a mite tricky," Seamus asked, opening up book to a dog-eared page.

Hermione was glad for the diversion. Although Seamus wasn't naturally adept at Arithmancy, he enjoyed struggling with it. It wasn't the first time he had approached her for help. "Not at all. It was tricky," she answered with a heart felt smile.

Hermione had no idea how pretty she was when she smiled. Her entire face would light up, and it was like she glowed. And Seamus Finnegan was a 17-year-old boy that liked pretty girls. But he also knew that he could never compete for Hermione's attention when she was bestfriends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley; especially when one of her best friends had a huge and well-known crush on her. So Seamus simply decided to enjoy Hermione as a pretty girl that he had no chance in hell with.

They worked on the problem for a few minutes as Hermione pointed out his calculation mistakes.

"So, do you know what your costume will be?" Seamus asked, making some small talk as he continued to calculate some figures.

Hermione almost beamed at him. She wanted to thank Seamus for providing her with another minor problem that she could obsess about for a few weeks. Her costume. No more Draco, she had something else to deal with. Something that all girls worry about: what to wear. "No. No idea at all. Half the time I just want to show up as Cinderella or maybe as an old movie star like Marilyn Monroe or Ingrid Bergman. But that's no fun when no one knows who you are," she chirped back.

Seamus nodded. Being muggleborn as well, he understood perfectly the differences in how Halloween was celebrated in the muggle world as opposed to the wizarding world. "I know. I feel the same way. Like I would love to dress up as David Beckham, but no one would have clue who he is," Seamus added cheerily referring to a muggle that was iconic to the soccer world.

A thought made Hermione giggle. "Or remember when we were young and people would dress up as witches and wizards?" she said, sharing the memory with Seamus.

Seamus's face broke into a wide grin. "Do I ever! Boy! I can't imagine what my friends would think if I ever told them that witches and wizards are real!"

"Or ghosts? And that ghosts aren't people walking around with an old white towel on their heads?" Hermione added, laughing.

"I was ghost, for one Halloween once. When I was seven I think," Seamus confessed with a laugh.

"I was a witch. When I was eight," Hermione confessed.

"What are you talking about? You are a witch!" Seamus teased her.

Hermione laughed. "Why yes! Yes I am!"

Seamus watched her with a matching smile on his face. And tried not to pay attention to the thought that if Hermione and he were really muggles, he would have been able to ask her out.

* * *

Ginny Weasley raced to the corner of the library where Luna Lovegood was sitting and plunked herself down on the chair across the table. "Have you heard the latest?" she hissed out in a whisper, slightly out of breath. 

Luna looked up placidly at her, awaiting information in Ginny's usual spitfire manner.

"I just heard from Trisha MacDonald who heard it from Angelica Pye who got it from Padma Patil who has it from a very reliable source that one Blaise Zabini fancies one Hermione Granger. Isn't that absolutely wild?" Ginny said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Luna laughed out loud; her laughter was like the twinkling of small silver bells. She knew _whom_ Padma had gotten the information from and they were dead wrong. But of course, she expected nothing less from the foremost gossipmongers of the school.

Ginny grinned and shared in Luna's amusement, even if it was for the wrong reasons. "I know. I swear gossip these days just doesn't know what else to make up," she added.

"Yes, especially when Blaise is interested in you," she said merrily, the laughter still clinging to her voice.

Ginny stared at her for a moment and then shook her head in wry amusement. This was Luna after all, and sometimes she did go a little loony, bless her soul. She opened her knapsack and started to work on her homework.

Luna continued to be amused.

* * *

"So now you're stuck planning decorations with Millicent Bullstrode?" Harry was commiserating with Ron as they walked back from Divination class. 

"Actually, it's more like Hermione and I are stuck decorating with that bull dog. Once Hermione found out, she insisted she needed to help out. Said something about not being to color coordinate my socks with my shoes," Ron continued to relate his woes. "What is she talking about? Why would I want to color coordinate my socks with my shoes?"

Harry Potter tried to hide his small smile from Ron. "Uh, I don't know mate. You know Hermione," he said soothingly.

"Yeah," Ron said quietly and part of him seemed to be somewhere else.

Harry noticed this. Not that he hadn't noticed this before. It just seemed, well, more obvious as more time went by. Well, obvious to everyone but to the person most interested. But he had decided it wasn't his place to say anything because he wanted Hermione and Ron to date because they wanted to not because he wanted them to. There was the distinct possibility that they would, just because they were all really good friends and Ron and Hermione knew it would make him happy if they did, but that's only just pretend happiness.

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts about the entire Ron-Hermione relationship possibility that he didn't notice that Ron had snapped back and had noticed how quiet _he_ was.

"Oy, Harry, you okay there?" Ron asked with a worried look in his eyes.

Harry smiled at his best friend. Ron did very little to hide his concern, and even when he did, he did it very poorly. Funny how you think about how important a friendship really is to you at the strangest moments or at the most mundane. Like walking back from class. "Yeah… just thinking about whom to ask to the masquerade," Harry lied.

"I'd do it fast mate, before you become inundated with offers. Remember the last time? Bloody embarrassing how many girls you had to turn down," Ron continued on with his blunt manner of speaking.

Harry winced at the memory. The last time there had been a ball, he had asked Ginny to go with him because there was no one he really wanted to go with and because he didn't want to be stuck all night with someone that was way more interested in him than he was. Of course, going with Ginny had been great fun but he had still had to turn down an obscene number of girls. Not that he had kept count but apparently a number of boys in Gryffindor had. He could expect the same situation. Again. He wished the girls didn't ask him, he really didn't enjoy having to turn them down and dashing their hopes. You would think it would get easier with time and practice but he was still embarrassed by all the attention.

"I suppose you'll ask Ginny and I'll just ask Hermione and all four of us can have fun at the ball," Ron said casually. Maybe too casually. He eyed Harry as he made the statement.

But before Harry could respond to what Ron had said, a cruel voice ran out saying "Well you better hurry up Weasel King before the Bucktoothed One gets asked by someone else."

* * *

While Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were walking the halls on their way back to their dorm, Pansy Parkinson was in the girls loo hearing the latest gossip and was racking her brain furiously to try to assess how it might just impact her plans. Not that anyone knew that's what she was doing. She was standing in front of the mirror, smoothing out her eyebrows. 

"But yes, apparently, the latest fabrication is that Blaise Zabini fancies that stupid Gryffindor mudblood whore," Tiffany Higgs said maliciously while looking at her perfectly manicured fingernails

"Is that Blaise as a girl or as a boy?" Claudia Jugson said with the sardonic arch of her eyebrow.

"Does it matter? It's obviously utter rubbish. If anything, its probably the mudblood whore fancying our favorite little transvestite tart," Melinda Travers said with a sneer.

Pansy wanted to smack Melinda, how stupid could one slag be? Hermione Granger was not fancying Blaise. The little bitch was after _her_ Drakie-poo. And Blaise knew that she was planning to cure the insufferable know-it-all bookworm from her little infatuation. However, if Blaise was interested in the stupid mudblood, would he snitch on her with Draco or would he set himself up to be the little bint's savior? No, even if the rumor wasn't true, Zabini would not tell Malfoy. Because he either wanted to take the credit for saving Potter's whore or he would do nothing to disprove the rumor.

"You're only bitter because Blaise refused to shag you. Either as a girl or as a boy," Tiffany said acidly.

"Well at least I didn't blow Gregory Goyle behind the Quidditch pitch last fall," Melinda replied cattily.

Tiffany and Melinda glared at each other. Pansy wanted to tell Tiffany that all the Slytherin boys knew about that particular incident. She also wanted to tell Melinda that everyone also knew that she had shagged both Vincent Crabbe and Ivan Zograf in the locker room their fourth year.

"Ladies, it seems to me that we're all just wasting our breath here. We shouldn't be keeping this vital piece of information to ourselves," Claudia said with a smirk. Out of all the girls, Claudia was the one that Pansy treaded the most carefully with. She was crafty, sinister and utterly devious. And, as Pansy knew, been trying for years to edge Pansy out in Draco's eyes.

"Yes, we wouldn't want others to think that this rumor started in the Slytherin quarters now, would we?" Pansy said mildly but with her eyes flashing, as she strode out of the loo. _Harpies, all of them,_ she thought. Unfortunately, aside from Millicent, they were the only girls in Slytherin House with comparable wealth and status to match hers, and thus the only acceptable female companions available. Basically, they all ran in the same circles. Oh, its not to say that they didn't _play nice_ with each other, or have fun going shopping to some of the most exclusive boutiques in the wizarding world or eating out at the finest restaurants, but they were all used to getting their own way. All the bloody time.

However, something interrupted Pansy's thoughts about her closest girl friends. She caught sight of two people that would benefit the most from knowing that somebody else was after their Gryffindor sweetheart. With a huge smile on her face and flip of her blond hair, she strode after them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Finally got around to correcting the chapter, thank you to all those that submitted information. Especially to Wolf Realm, who sent urls. Yes, I am in the middle of writing the next chapter. Reviews are always a welcome reminder that you want an update. 


	17. Chapter 17: Truth, Lies and Business, as...

**Disclaimer:** All characters are owned by JKR.

**Plot:** Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble.

**Author's Notes:** THANKS for the reviews. Thanks for all the patience. Yes, I know it was over six months. I hope that the next chapter won't take that long. Life just gets in the way sometimes. Here is the long overdue chapter. Enjoy.

I tried posting this on 05/30 and on 05/31 but the server wouldn't let me login. At the moment, I'm currently worried that it will do something to the formatting.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Truth, Lies and Business, as usual**

**

* * *

**

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley watch Pansy Parkinson approach them warily, their hackles up. The Slytherin girl looked enticing, rich and deadly. From her custom made robes to her perfectly manicured nails, she looked every inch the Pureblooded society girl. Normally, she would not deign to speak to them at all, and even her taunts were spoken as if they were not present.

"Care to repeat what you said?" Ronald Weasley demanded.

Pansy smiled, and it almost made Harry want to recoil. It was so fake and unnatural; there was no happiness, no warmth radiating from her, only a sickening sort of malice, cloying like her musky perfume. "I thought you would like to know that you have competition," she said mockingly.

Harry and Ron both narrowed their eyes, their expressions stormy.

"Word is that Blaise is interested in your precious little Gryffindor princess," Pansy said, leaning back against a wall, her eyes dancing in wicked amusement.

Harry blanched and Ron's ears turned pink. "What?" they both shouted. The idea that Hogwart's oiliest information broker, slimiest smooth talker and resident transvestite was interested in their Hermione was enough to give anyone a mental breakdown.

"You're making this up," Ron gasped out.

Pansy shrugged, her lips turned up in an amused smirk. "Am I? It doesn't matter. As long as the rest of the school thinks that it's true."

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "It doesn't matter. I would say that _at least_ Zabini knows a slag when he sees one," he said, looking pointedly at Pansy.

Pansy's smile turned brittle. "Zabini is a _bloody ponce_ and everyone knows it. Heavens knows what twisted and perverted fantasies he entertains regarding your mudblood whore," she spat out, turning on her heel. Secretly, she was pleased. Potter and Weasel King would be so worried about Zabini that they wouldn't possibly prepare against her. Also, with Potter and Weasel on super bodyguard duty, _her_ Drakey-poo would think twice before looking that mudblood bitch's way. All in all, she had played her cards right.

Ron and Harry exchanged preoccupied glances. It was just a rumor or Parkinson trying to fuck with their minds? But if it was true, it was almost too horrifying to think about. Not that they thought that Hermione would ever be interested in a Slytherin, especially in such a deviant as Zabini. However, who knew how obsessive a Slytherin could be? As for the perversions that Pansy had alluded to, enough was said that even the Slytherins whispered about Zabini's "antics". Combined with the reputation of the Zabini family as supporters of Voldemort, the picture just kept getting uglier and uglier.

"You reckon she was right?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed in preoccupation.

"Only one way to find out," Harry said, with a glint in his eyes. Time to find Lavender and Parvati.

* * *

Meanwhile, Blaise Zabini was attempting to keep his cool. He nodded his head and a third year Slytherin backed away hurriedly. He looked around himself. Thank Merlin he was in the library or else he would just bloody scream. What in Rowena's knickers had planted the idea that he, Blaise Zabini, information broker extraordinaire, was panting after one Head Girl-Stick Up My Ass-Hermione Granger into the maggoty brains of Brown and Patil?

Zabini wanted to groan and bury his face in his hands. Talk about impending disaster and doom. Potter and Weasley would no doubt come, hunt him down and geld him on sight for even attempting to dream of touching their little Princess. And **that** would be soon. At this rate, it would take another 25 minutes before the entire school population found out about this rumor. He had a begrudging respect for Brown and Patil, when those girls wanted to be, they were devastatingly effective. Unfortunately for him, the devastation would most likely happen on **his** end. And then he would have to explain to Draco-I Am Slyterin Prat #1 With Repressed Sexual Desire For Obnoxious Head Girl Granger-Malfoy why everyone thought he was after the object of _his_ "affections". Despite Malfoy's denials of the contrary, he was proprietary, territorial and one jealous bastard. He would rather not have to deal with Draco's snarkiness especially when he had to watch his back from being pounded by Potter and Weasley.

Oh yes, Zabini was in a pretty pickle and he knew it.

He also knew he had 25 minutes to turn this situation around to his favor. Some people looked for the silver lining in a bad situation; a Zabini was more about looking for the way to turn the silver lining into gold brick.

There were two main courses of actions.

Plan A: He could deny everything. That would get The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Annoying and the Weasel tosser off his back. Unfortunately, Brown and Patil could confirm he had indeed been commissioned to make a dossier, a client who obviously had a marked interest for Granger. Invariably the trail would lead back to Malfoy and this would just spark off the much anticipated war between the Light and the Dark right here in Hogwarts. Because Malfoy would stop at nothing until he had Granger and Potter and Weasley would rather be eaten alive by Hypogriffs than let a Slytherin have his evil way with their Gryffindor princess. Not to mention that Malfoy would be in a perpetual foul humor for the rest of the school year. Invariably, he would be blamed by either side and if he was lucky, he would be destroyed quickly and therefore saved from a very painful existence.

Obviously option A involved a good deal of bodily harm to his person. Thus, it was a bad plan. Actually, it was a worst scenario nightmare.

Plan B: He could take the bum wrap. He would have to go immediately to Malfoy and convince him that it was in _his_ best interest to have everyone else in Hogwarts believe that it was Zabini who was interested in Granger. Therefore, he wouldn't have to worry about the Boy Wonder and Annoying Sidekick being suspicious of _him _as their attention was obviously elsewhere. As a bonus, he could attempt to talk to one Ginevra Weasley under the guise of trying to court the uptight Head Girl. Sure, he would have to deal with Potter and Weasley, but they would be so focused on preventing him from talking to Granger that they wouldn't be quite so worried about him talking to Ginny. Of course he would blackmail Malfoy since he was doing _him_ a favor by serving as a distraction. Malfoy was going to owe him another fat favor.

Option B was a much, much better plan. Because it would mean that Malfoy would not just owe him one favor, but two. And one can never be owed too many boons. The proverbial gold brick was his for the taking.

Blaise Zabini strode out of the library, heading straight to the Slytherin Common Room to talk to Malfoy and do some damage control. He felt eyes follow him, but if he was going to go through with option B he wasn't going to let anyone else know what he was doing.

He still wanted to avoid getting shit-kicked by The Boy Wonder and the Annoying Sidekick or one pissed off Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"You won't believe what I just heard about you," Ginny said in a sing-song voice, a playful smirk on her face.

Hermione paled. The smirk reminded her of somebody else's mouth. Not that she wanted to particularly _think_ about said person's mouth. Usually those thoughts lead to other very naughty thoughts that she really, really shouldn't have. Alarm bells were bellowing in her head. "Oh?" she asked a little tensely.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at Hermione. Most of the time, Hermione didn't give a rat's ass about gossip. Mainly because most gossip involving her was about the torrid love affair she had with either Ron or Harry or sometimes both. Other times the gossip said that she would be having a torrid love affair with either Ron, Harry or both of them if she wasn't a frigid bitch. Occasionally, there was the odd tidbit that Hermione must obviously be doing drugs or drinking illegal potions because how could it be possible for any witch to have top-grades in every single class, even if she is supposed to be the cleverest witch of her entire generation. Regardless of what the rumor was, Hermione had never been infuriated with gossip.

Except during the entire Rita Skeeter affair. But really, who could blame the girl? The rumors had not just been confined to the school but had been the breakfast fodder for the entire Wizarding world. At least in the United Kingdom. Possibly in Europe as well. Ginny was surprised that Hermione's reaction had been that restrained. She would have possibly flipped out completely if she saw her personal life to be the object of open speculation around the world.

"Well?" Hermione asked. She needed to know. Not that she thought that anyone had really guessed that she might have the teeniest tiniest fancy on Draco Malfoy. Really, it wasn't like she was a full-fledged card-carrying member of the Draco Malfoy fan club. And admittedly, girls of every House thought he was a sexy prat even if his attitude made a Norwegian ridgeback look positively refined. Besides, she told herself it was only natural that tongues would wag. After all, she was Head Girl and he was Head Boy. They did share quarters. She wasn't going to be bothered by what she knew wasn't true, she told herself silently.

"I heard that Blaise Zabini is interested in you," Ginny said, looking carefully at Hermione's reaction.

Already thinking of how to best refute the fact that she may like Draco Malfoy, or that she was carrying his illegitimate child or that he had convinced her to join the Deathlosers, Hermione's brain refused to process what Ginny said. In fact, she had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that all she really heard was '_is interested in you'_. It was obviously time to refute whatever incredible piece of yarn that was floating through the heads of every other student in Hogwarts. This really wouldn't happen if people spent more time concentrating in their studies instead of everyone else's life. This really just confirmed that the workload most people took was way too light. "Utterly ludicrous," Hermione snapped out, a little too angrily.

Ginny was a bit taken aback at Hermione's vehemence. Could it possibly be that Hermione harbored some sort of secret crush on the Slytherin? Usually Hermione reserved this kind of irritation to things that truly bothered her. Or when Ron managed to annoy her. It wasn't completely implausible. Blaise _was_ attractive. Ginny gave herself a mental shake. She was merely being pragmatic. It wasn't like she actually liked Zabini, but he wasn't ugly to look at. And she was merely talking about aesthetic qualities, and she was being entirely objective about Blaise's look. She decided to give her theory a shot.

"Well, aesthetically speaking, he _is_ good looking," Ginny said with a casual shrug.

Hermione eyed Ginny. Was Ginny a member of the Draco-Should Always Wear Sexy Dragon Leather Pants-Malfoy fan club?

"Oh, come on Hermione, you can't tell me you haven't noticed?" Ginny said, using a bit of reverse psychology. If Hermione denied it, then it was because she did think he was handsome even if she didn't want anyone to find out. And maybe the bad boy type was what Hermione wanted. It was obvious that Hermione needed a guy that defied conventions, that wasn't afraid to walk his own path and with a certain degree of strength of character. She was, afterall, best friends with Harry Potter. Good girls like Hermione would always have a weak spot for the maverick, the rebel, the bad boy. Hell, even she did and she was less of a goody two shoes than Hermione.

Hermione _had_ noticed, too much for her own liking. Admitting it to Ginny seemed tantamount to admitting she had a crush on him. Even if her mind was becoming more susceptible to thinking she did have the tiniest infatuation on him it wasn't something that she wanted to dwell on more than she needed. If she said anything to Ginny, she could very well expect an entire afternoon of girl talk about the subject. On the other hand, if she denied it completely Ginny would know that something is up. And she could expect an excruciating interrogation session and Ginny was an extremely effective interrogator. You didn't survive six Weasley brothers and Mrs. Weasley without becoming a psychological chess master.

"I suppose some people would think so," Hermione said noncommittally, treading the treacherous line of neutrality. If Ginny thought she would just give in and tell her what she wanted to know, she had another think coming.

Ginny wanted to laugh out loud. This was one of the reasons she liked Hermione. She could be forthright when she wanted to and she could be devious when she needed to be. And when it came to boys, Hermione was very tight-lipped. Well, with the exception of Viktor Krum because she was still puzzled about certain aspects of relationships. Not that Hermione viewed Viktor as anything other than friend, much to the Bulgarian's dismay.

"So you do think he's cute," she said, injecting her tone with just the right amount of teasing and triumph, smiling wickedly at her She knew it would drive Hermione bonkers.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she wanted to scowl. She knew what Ginny was doing. She knew that Ginny wouldn't go feeding the rumor mill but she did have to make some sort of public comment about how far-fetched the entire notion really was before the entire situation got too out of hand. The last thing she needed was death threats from all the Pure-blooded ninnies in the world. "This really just proves that people have too much free time on their hands. Frankly, the fact that a Slytherin would like a Gryffindor is so improbable. For crying out loud, he has publicly loathed me and called me mudblood to my face in public. How anyone thought that he might fancy me is utterly beyond me," she said a little too angrily.

It had **hurt**. Then and now. She knew that prejudice and bigotry were learned behavior. She knew that he really didn't know better. But that didn't stop the pain. It didn't stop the insult from being ugly. More importantly, the intent to hurt had been there. And for someone such as her, who had been thrown into an unknown world in which she needed to prove herself, it was discouraging to have someone tell her that she didn't belong. She had already felt the duality of having to manage two different identities. In those first few months, Malfoy's words had cut deep because she had been all alone and she had no friends to count on. Things had changed but Hermione had never really gotten over it.

Ginny was puzzled. As far as she knew, Zabini had never called anyone a mudblood. In fact, no one really knew what his opinions on such things truly were. Granted, he was in Slytherin so it meant that he was a supporter of the Dark Tosser, since his entire family was. But everyone knew that the Zabini family was weird. Blaise was no exception with his gender changing proclivities. And really, with his family's odd quirks and behaviors, it wasn't like Blaise could accuse anyone of anything, really.

"Zabini has never called you a mudblood," Ginny said slowly. There were a number of Slytherins that have called Hermione any number of foul names. But first and foremost would be always one Draco Malfoy, who just incidentally happened to be Head Boy and happened to share close quarters with Hermione. Ginny's mind started working fast and furious. Draco Malfoy fit the bad boy profile. He was also supremely intelligent, devious to the core, didn't give a rat's ass about anyone but himself and was sexy enough to be considered illegal. Could it possibly be?

Hermione's mind registered Ginny's words with a shock. So it wasn't about Malfoy they had been talking about all along? Hermione met Ginny's eyes and the word BUSTED flashed through her mind in giant red neon lights. She was going to have to do some fancy footwork now.

Hermione really didn't like that gleam in Ginny's eye.

This was going to be one hell of a girl's talk.

* * *

"This better be good Zabini," Draco said through gritted teeth. He had been hearing some very disturbing rumors. Well, more like whispers. No one had the balls yet to tell him but he had heard enough to piece it all together and he didn't like it. Zabini better have a good explanation for this or things were going to get ugly. **Fast**.

Draco was working himself into a foul mood and he didn't give a rat's ass who knew.

Blaise just grinned at him idiotically, which made Draco just want to scowl even more. Blaise pointed toward the bedchamber he shared with Crabbe, Goyle and Pucey. Crabbe and Goyle had been in there doing bench presses and working with weights but one look at Draco's face made them drop the weights and step outside the room. Pucey, as always, preferred to spend the least amount of time in the room as possible. Blaise closed the door behind him, muttered a number of locking and silencing spells and adding a particular nasty hex to anyone that even dared to come near enough to knock on the door.

"I assume you've heard some of the rumors that are floating around," Blaise began nonchalantly, still smiling. Not that he'd let Malfoy know he was sweating it. If he was planning to pull this particular scheme of his off, he needed to look like he knew what he was doing.

"Something like that," Draco said, his eyes flashing.

"First, let me assure you that I have no such interest in the precious little Head Girl. Secondly, I did not start the rumor and I know who did. And thirdly, let me point out to you that this rumor actually works out in your favor," Blaise said smoothly.

"Oh?" Draco raised an eyebrow, vaguely reassured by Zabini's confidence and intrigued on how this particular debacle could be used to his advantage. Not that he was going to let the matter drop that easily. Zabini still had some explaining to do.

"You want Granger," Blaise said bluntly. "I'm not going to inquire as to the motives that spark this particular interest." Which was not a lie, but neither it was the truth. Simply because he didn't ask Draco didn't mean that he was not going to find out. It was his job after all.

Draco opened his mouth to refute that he didn't want Granger but his retort was not quick enough and Zabini kept talking.

"More importantly, I know you won't stop until you get what you want. You were like this when you were six and wanted that damn kneazle even when your father had strictly forbidden you from it. Same thing. I don't expect you to change," Blaise brought up the memory of when they were six and they had found a number of rogue kneazles camping out in the Zabini summer estate.

"Almost as importantly, I'm willing to let the rest of this ruddy school think that I am in fact quite enamored of Hermione Granger, letting her two bloodhounds attempt to beat the stuffing out of me at every turn and off your scent so that you can talk her out of her knickers," Blaise said.

This surprised Draco but he had been a Malfoy all of his life and a Slytherin almost as long, so he masked it well as if he was merely contemplating Blaise's offer. It was tempting. Potter and Weasley would be distracted and he could take his time with Granger.

"For a **price**," Blaise said, interrupting Draco's thoughts.

Draco had to smile thinly. Of course he didn't expect Zabini to do this out of the greatness of his little black heart.

"I have two conditions," Blaise stated baldly. "One is that I want protection. Simply because I am willing to set myself up as bait doesn't mean I fancy Wonder Boy and Weasel King breaking every single one of my bones on a daily basis."

Draco had no problems with that condition. He wasn't going to let anyone think that a Gryffindor could harm one of his people with impunity, even if it was Harry-sodding-Potter. It would not bode well for his reputation. More importantly, if Blaise was permanently stuck in the infirmary he would need to find a replacement drummer. He nodded in agreement.

"Secondly, as long as I am required to maintain this charade, my actions are beyond questioning and reproach," Blaise stated. This was the big iffy clause. He expected Malfoy to accede to his first condition. It served Malfoy's purposes nicely. This one, on the other hand, meant that he would be left in the dark. Not that he wasn't already. Malfoy didn't expect Blaise to be entirely forthright about everything but he did exert a certain amount of control. If he wanted to know, Blaise would answer to him. Malfoy expected Blaise to lie and Blaise expected to be appropriately punished if he was caught lying to the Slytherin King.

"And if I don't agree?" Draco said coolly. It really was just for form's sake that he asked this. He didn't want Zabini to think he could just dictate whatever bloody terms he felt like.

"Then you can kiss whatever chance you had of seducing Granger goodbye. Everyone will be watching your every move. You won't have a moment of peace with her. She will have those two watchdogs of hers permanently stuck to her side," Blaise said flatly. He really didn't put it past Potter and Weasley to set up camp in the common room of the Head quarters just to make sure Malfoy didn't make a move on their girl.

Draco's eyebrows knitted in frustration. He knew that Zabini was right. Sodding Potter and Weasley were just itching for the chance to AK him. This would provide them with the perfect excuse. "Granger would know the truth, though," he said, trying to blow a hole into Zabini's apparently perfect strategy.

_Leave it up to Malfoy to bring up the one possible weakness in his plan_, Zabini thought. But he had thought of it already and given his not inconsiderate knowledge of the Head Girl, he was pretty sure he knew how she would react. "First of all, Granger isn't going to risk Potter's life in a confrontation with you. She'll do whatever it takes to make sure the Boy Hero goes off to fulfill his glorious destiny in vanquishing the Evil Overlord. Secondly, she really doesn't view you as such a threat that she needs her best friends to save her, which of course works to your advantage. But most importantly, can you imagine Granger claiming that its really YOU who is interested in her? It's just completely, and utterly unbelievable. Even more that this stupid rumor that I am interested in her. It just wouldn't take. And she would look like the one that has a crush on you, aside from looking absolutely mental; something she isn't going to risk doing. Hermione is not going to blow your cover for fear that everyone else will interpret it as her being interested in you. Which just would cause the entire Gryffindor to die from shock and shame," Blaise explained smugly. Oh yes, he knew his reasoning was on the money. Damn, he was good.

Draco was impressed. Damn, Zabini was good. He was still didn't like the conditions that Zabini had set but the entire situation worked so well in his favor that he wasn't going to question it. "Very well Zabini, you have a deal," he said imperiously.

Zabini smiled. He had a deal and he also had permission to talk to one Ginevra Weasley without anyone being the wiser of what he was up to. Equally as important, he had not used the favor that Malfoy owed him over the subject. Oh yes, he had not just found the proverbial gold brick in the situation but rather found a goddamn gold mine.

Now, if he could only survive Potter and Weasley for the next two terms and talk to Ginny Weasley without having his personal bits hexed to hell and back, he would have a record year. But then again, Blaise Zabini didn't have a devious mind for nothing.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were sitting pretty and very smug of their accomplishments. The Blaise Zabini-Hermione Granger rumor had taken off like wild fire. In fact, after 21 minutes and 16 seconds, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley come barging into their 'office' demanding explanations. Not that Harry or Ron would ever stop them from doing their jobs although Harry and Ron were both part of the 'unofficial' cabinet that ruled Gryffindor intra-house interactions.

Although Lavender and Parvati were both concerned at how concerned both of the boys appeared to be, they knew that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were more than capable of defending Hermione Granger from Blaise Zabini's advances. Hell, Hermione was more than capable of defending herself from anyone's advances with a well-placed hex here and there. More importantly, it gave Harry and Ron something to do other than brood about the impending war. Despite their reputations as airheads, Lavender and Parvati weren't stupid. This was their gift to Harry. They weren't going to treat this school year as anything different or special. This was going to be their last school year and it would be just like any other school year, even if the Apocalypse were to happen the next day.

"Is it true?" Ron gasped out. Both he and Harry were a bit out of breath having had to run from the Great Hall to the nook that Lavender and Parvati occupied every afternoon under the eighth staircase from which they managed their 'operations'.

Lavender and Parvati nodded their heads solemnly, their eyes serious but glittering with merriment.

"How sure are you?" Harry asked, his tone distinctively implying that he would brook no joke.

Lavender looked at Parvati meaningfully. Normally they wouldn't just state bald facts unless absolutely necessary. Bald facts tended to ruin speculation and interpretation. Parvati shrugged. The general populace of the school had taken up this particular rumor. If Harry and Ron knew the truth, it wouldn't change anything. Besides, whatever details they had divulged about Hermione had been worth the price.

"Blaise Zabini came to us. Asking for very specific information concerning Hermione. By the rules of the network, we traded information," Lavender said seriously.

Harry's green eyes acquired a glint. He knew of some of the rules of the network. Not that he expected a Slytherin to tell the complete truth, but perhaps there was enough to piece together something. Precious little information ever came from the Slytherin quarter. And whatever Zabini used in exchange couldn't have been just run-of-the-mill information. "What did Zabini pay you with?" he asked.

It was time for some Gryffindor business.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Read and review. Comments are always appreciated. Anyone intrigued on what Blaise told Lavender and Parvati? Yeah, so am I. 


	18. Chapter 18: Temporary Insanity

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potterish belong to JKR.

**Plot:** Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

**Author's Note:** I updated as fast as I could. As this is a relatively long chapter and I cover a lot of ground, I hope you all enjoy it.

And worry not, I haven't forgotten about Draco and his music. There should be a scene about that in the next chapter. I have brief outline on how that one.

Hopefully all the inconsistencies have been fixed. If not, drop me a note. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 18: Temporary Insanities**

**

* * *

**

Hermione rubbed her temples. The talk with Ginny had not gone as well as she had hoped. But she was going to keep quiet about the entire affair. She tried to pass it off as a momentary lapse of judgment, of raging teenage hormones and girlish daydreams. Ginny wasn't quite so convinced but she held her tongue. And that was all that she really needed. In a few weeks, she would be over her fascination with Draco. She was just overwhelmed with schoolwork, with being Head Girl, with being Harry Potter's best friend, with being the cleverest witch of her generation. This was just a moment of temporary insanity.

This was like the time when Ron kept making an ass over Fleur Delacour. Granted, the girl was part-Veela. Could Malfoy have some Veela blood in him? That would definitely explain this weird infatuation she had with him. At least she could be able to blame it on things she had no control over.

If Hermione had not been so deep in thought, she would have been paying more attention as she turned the corner.

As she wasn't, she ran smacked solidly against someone, losing her balance. Just as her mind registered that she was indeed on a rapid collision course with the ground, her mind realized that it had stopped as abruptly as it had started.

Hermione looked up to see Draco Malfoy, grabbing her arm to stop her from falling. Between the shock of actually seeing him after doing her best to avoid him, and the shock of her would-be-fall, she just stared into his gray eyes, uncomprehending and stunned.

They really were glorious eyes. Not just their unusual color but the life in them. Although, most of the time, they gleamed viciously or with undisguised hatred, they were so full of life. The rest of Malfoy might be bitingly cold, but his eyes…. His eyes were always so passionately alive.

Currently, these eyes were looking at her, searching. She couldn't possibly imagine what was going through his mind but his eyes seemed to give slight indications. They looked at her. Really looked at her. Like if he was trying to memorize the curve of her brow or the shape of her eyebrows. They searched her own like if she held the answer to some pressing question and she wasn't even sure what in the seven hells Malfoy could want with her. She saw his eyes darken to pools of steel with some unrecognizable emotion.

Little did Hermione know that this was an unconscious reaction in Malfoy's part. However, the next action was most decidedly premeditated and consciously taken.

Hermione was yanked forward and Malfoy's other hand came to rest behind her head as he pulled her into a kiss.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Her body went rigid with shock and disbelief. But her mouth! Her mouth, although surprised, felt warm and alive.

It wasn't necessarily soft. It wasn't necessarily gentle. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't dreamy. It wasn't passionate. Her brain, attempting to categorize the experience and simply failing miserably because it was more than just lips meeting lips chastely. Because it wasn't like anything she had ever experienced and yet it was. She couldn't recognize the feeling. Or maybe, she refused to.

His lips tugged at hers persuasively and her lips responded.

The feelings changed.

Deepened.

It wasn't hot. It wasn't dark. It wasn't desire. It wasn't an ache. It seem to spin slowly through her, a line drawn from him to her, moving timelessly, following the dance of fate. It wasn't a burn. It wasn't a pleasure. It wasn't a yearning.

Just his mouth on her mouth. Just his breath mingling with hers. His hands held her captive but her body seemed rooted to the spot.

For a millisecond, his lips left hers. But that second was enough. The spell was broken.

She jerked back, her eyes still too full of confusion, and her mind spinning, and completely unready for any kind of understanding. They locked eyes and Hermione felt the white light of certainty just flash through her mind that what had just happened was meant to happen. But still, she could not believe it. "Why?" she asked, her voice husky, confusion and desire trapped in her throat making her heart beat erratic.

He didn't answer her but continue to look at her with those eyes, serious but with a brightness to them, glowing like polished silver.

"Why?" she asked, a little more forcefully, getting angrier, letting herself become infuriated. He had changed things, changing everything, driving her into unchartered waters, path she had feared to tread. And she didn't like it. No, getting angry was the right choice. It was safe. It was predictable. It was normal.

He still didn't answer, although she felt her cheeks getting hot and her anger begin to warm her skin.

"Why Malfoy? _Why_?" she screeched at him, that unholy sound that should have only belong to a Banshee, demanding an explanation and this time he didn't flinch at the sound. She felt her voice rise to a panic underneath the veneer of anger. Thing weren't supposed to be this way. She shouldn't fancy him. He shouldn't have kissed her. She shouldn't be here, at this moment, asking him for an explanation. They were supposed to hate each other. And if they felt anything else, they certainly were not supposed to act on it. She would have hit him, for violating the rules of the game, but she was afraid of touching him.

"I don't know," he said simply.

No. She couldn't have heard that. She refused to believe she had heard that. She wanted to close her mind and heart to those words but like a giant stone they splashed and sunk through the depths of her conscious being. She clung to her anger with even more tenacity. "You don't know?" her voice, riddled with desperation and derision rang loud. It even sounded a bit hysterical in her ears. "Then I'll tell you because you are obviously gone bloody daft. You are a pureblooded Slytherin and I am a Gryffindor mudblood," she spat out, ignoring the pain of the word, using _his_ word, to remind him that it was him that had named her thus. "And that's all we are to each other."

His expression turned stony, his eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously and Hermione secretly rejoiced. She was familiar enough with Malfoy's expressions to know when he was angered. And she had done it. She had shaken him from whatever deranged reality he was currently in. Now, they would argue, scream at each other and threaten to hex each other to bits. Nothing would change. This would become a temporary aberration, a temporary insanity born out of the tension from the War and the pressures of their last school year. It would be an incident neither of them would ever mention again.

But instead of screaming at her or threatening her or throwing insults at her like finely honed daggers, he grabbed her head and fused his mouth to hers in one angry kiss. She could feel the waves of anger, tension and frustration roll of him. The kiss was hard and rough and she could taste the bitterness with her tongue.

It only lasted a second, because she was angry and she wanted to fight him, so she was able to force a space between them, jerking out of his grip. She wanted to strike at him for doing this to her. She wanted to blame him for her confusion. Besides, fighting was normal. Passionate snogging, not so much.

With wild eyes, she moved her right hand to strike him, slap him silly if need be. Anything to turn him back into the Malfoy she knew. Anything to make this boy who wanted to kiss her disappear. Anything to make this boy, who didn't exist outside her girlish hopes and dreams, vanish.

But he stopped her hand from hitting him. Gripping her wrist hard, he said in a low voice, "You hit me once. Never again." He turned his face into the palm of her hand; his eyes still fixed on hers, and kissed the center of her palm softly and deliberately.

The touch was electrifying. It made Hermione weak. She knew instinctively what it was and she wanted to close her eyes from what stood between them and will it all away. This was madness. Nothing but foolish desires. Nothing but raging hormones. Nothing she should be feeling.

But she was afraid. Because she wanted it. She wanted him. She wanted his mouth on hers again. She wanted to feel his hands tangled in her hair. She wanted to touch his skin. She wanted to feel his body, hard and lean against hers. She wanted to feel his smirk against her lips.

But these wants were forbidden. She should have never felt them. She should not be feeling them right now. She closed her eyes and steeled her resolve.

She held her on to her Gryffindor pride and her Gryffindor courage and twisted her hand away from grip. She turned around and ran back to the Gryffindor Tower. She ignored the strange beating in her heart and the churning feeling in her stomach and ran back to the place where she knew everything was still normal.

* * *

**_Meanwhile, in another part of Hogwarts…_**

Ginny Weasley was deep in thought. Usually when she was deep in thought she was thinking of the Boy Who Took No Notice of Her. This time, her brain had bigger problems to ponder; or rather, one particular problem. Her mind was still reeling from the fact that one Hermione Granger had finally admitted to the "possibility that she could conceivably be attracted to one Draco Malfoy," as her brain recalled how Hermione had tried to evade answering her questions directly. But in Hermione-speak that was as close as Ginny was going to get to Hermione stating that she fancied the Malfoy heir.

It had been torturous. Worse than getting Charlie's attention away from anything dragon related. Worse than getting Percy to take that sanctimonious 'I am Perfect' stick out of his arse. Worse than trying to get Bill to cut his hair. Ginny had to _work_ it.

But in the end, she had done it. And yes, part of her was extremely satisfied in having finally cracked Hermione Granger.

Of course, this now left her with a bucket load of information to think about. So Ginny did what she always did whenever she was deep in thought.

Go talk to Luna.

But as she started down the stairs to go to the Ravenclaw dorm's she saw one Blaise Zabini waiting at the foot of her stairwell, looking quite impishly up at her.

She stood a little straighter and her walk became al little stiffer, as if someone had decided to starch her clothing, including her knickers. She walked a little slower, her steps becoming more measured. And she watched Zabini.

Blaise Zabini kept watching her descend, still grinning, his eyes bright with merriment. "Miss Weasley," he greeted her pleasantly as soon as they were seeing eye to eye with each other.

She took the last two steps and dropped his gaze naturally. "Zabini," she said curtly with a small jerk of her head.

"I was wondering if you had a minute, I would like to talk to you about a _private matter,"_ he said, his voice a low caress, his amusement peaking around from every word.

Now Ginny could imagine what it was that Zabini wanted to talk about and she was at least mature enough to admit to herself that she was intrigued. However, she also knew that going anywhere alone with a Slytherin, let alone an attractive one, was a bad idea. Bad with a capital B. "I'm sorry Zabini. I'm busy at the moment," she said with a smile that wasn't quite cold but that was by no stretch of the imagination, friendly.

Adeptly, Blaise blocked her from taking another step with his body. Ginny was suddenly very close and very much looking at the Slytherin's necktie and chest. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and stepped to her left.

Zabini blocked her again.

She tried two steps to the right.

Zabini continued to block her. "I play Quidditch too, you know," he said pleasantly. "I can do this _all night long_," he added with a cheeky grin, his tone full of innuendo.

Ginny couldn't help her cheeks from coloring and not for the first time in her life, she cursed the milky white complexion she had inherited from her mum. She quickly assessed her options. He was obviously determined to talk to her. If she were able to find an opening and breakaway he would have no problem catching up with her with his longer strides. Quidditch had definitely honed his speed and his coordination. She decied she just needed to rid of him as soon as possible.

"Fine," she said, capitulating and crossing her arms across her chest. She might have to talk to him but she didn't have to like it.

"Capital! Follow me. I know just the little nook," he said with an even wider grin that showed off his even white teeth.

"Hold it right there Zabini. I am **not** going anywhere. You want to talk to me, then you to me here," she said firmly. Did he think she was a fool? To just follow him peacefully like some lamb to a slaughterhouse? If he thought he had her cooperation, he had another think coming.

"Alright. Have it your way," he answered with a shrug, not bothered at all.

It made Ginny want to hiss. "Well?" she scowled.

"That's impressive. For a pretty girl, you _almost_ look ugly for a moment. Quite the Millicent Bullstrode impersonation but I'd prefer not to be reminded of her. Did you know she tried to seduce me back in the fifth year? Positively traumatic. I thought she would just raise me over her shoulder and haul me off to some place where she could have her way with me. But call me Blaise. Can I call you Ginny?" Blaise said breezily, still smiling at her, the words falling cheerfully from his honeyed tongue.

Ginny was a little stunned and a little bewildered. "No," she said a little confused. No, she hadn't known Millicent Bullstrode had tried to put the moves on Blaise. No, she didn't want him to call her Ginny. No, she hadn't just heard him call her pretty, had she?

"Well, admittedly, it wasn't something I would publicize, you know," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Ginny just looked at him. She had heard of Zabini's not inconsiderable charms. And she had to hand it to him. He was slick, very smooth. But she wasn't an innocent and she wasn't born yesterday. It would be a good while before anyone else pulled a number on her. And she had learned her lessons. Even sympathetic sounding Slytherins were nevertheless still Slytherins. "What do you want Zabini?" she ground out the words.

"Easy now Red. I just want to talk," he said, raising his hands in a gesture to placate her.

"We are talking and you're not saying anything," she said icily.

Blaise stopped smiling. The change was remarkable. Now he looked serious and somber. His eyes still sparkled but he wasn't amused anymore. "You asked what I wanted and I answered. I just want to talk to you," he said briskly, his voice sounding professional.

"I heard. I want to know why," she asked warily.

"You're entitled to ask. But seriously, do you expect me to answer?" he said with a raise of his raven colored eyebrows.

She could only hope. But no, she had not in all honestly expected him to answer her truthfully. So she just stood there, looking at him, her expression stony and her eyes flashing at him.

"Here's the deal Miss Ginny. I would be most honored if you would spend an hour every week with me, conversing," Zabini said with a small smile playing on his lips, the gleam in his eyes bright.

"Why should I? It's obvious you don't need elocution or conversation classes," Ginny said bluntly.

Zabini bit down on his generous bottom lip. Ginny gave herself a mental shake for noticing but he really had a delicious pout, fully Italian and very kissable. "I know about the diary," he said softly.

Ginny stood there stunned. She expected that there would be Slytherins that knew about the blasted thing. But she had not expected any of them would confront her with the information. Thanks to Harry the entire affair had been kept quiet and she knew her housemates, even if they found out, would not be the kind to tattle. But it was still a shock to be blackmailed with that information. More than anything it was just embarrassing for her. Not that anyone would blame her about it. She had done no wrong. She had been up against some very powerful Dark Magic and the most sinister fiend her world had ever known. But the entire affair still made her feel foolish. What an idiot she had been.

And the last thing she needed was to remind everyone of what had happened her first year. The other Houses might not be as understanding. And Harry and Ron certainly didn't need the additional stress. Why? Why had she been so stupid? Tears threatened behind her eyes.

"I just want to talk. One hour a week. I'll get you a message about time and place. And if it works for your schedule, send me an owl. Honestly, Ginny, I just want to talk," Zabini said gently, as if he noticed how greatly his words had affected her.

Ginny just nodded at him. She didn't trust herself to speak. She knew that it wasn't as harmless as Zabini made it appear. But she also knew she didn't have a choice. And really, it wasn't all that bad. Just one hour a week. She could tolerate that. Better than ripping this school apart at the seams when everyone was so tense, when even the barest whisper of the name of the Dark Lord sent people into panic and hysterics. Better than have her brother try to take a swing at anyone that even implied she was in league with the Dark Lord. Better than reminding Harry of almost dying at the Dark Lord's hands that year. Just one hour a week. Just one hour a week to buy Zabini's continued silence. She would do it.

"Well then, I won't keep you," he said again in that soft tone of his.

Ginny just walked away from him. Walked away slowly, on her way to the Ravenclaw dorms.

She didn't notice how Blaise followed her walking with troubled eyes.

* * *

**_Meanwhile, in the Slytherin Dungeons…_**

"Is everything ready?" Pansy asked as she brushed her hair, sitting on her bed.

Millicent nodded at her.

"Good. We'll move on it on this Friday," Pansy said with a malicious grin as she continued to brush her hair.

Millicent just walked out of the room. In the same way, Vince and Greg followed Draco, she followed Pansy. She knew that she wasn't necessarily in the same category as Pansy. Pansy was one of the pretty girls. She was a Slytherin Princess and she wasn't. She had accepted it long ago, when she first arrived at Hogwarts. With her big frame and her square jaw, she knew that her figure was not one that lent itself to admiration. But just because she knew, it didn't mean that she wanted to spend more time with Pansy than was necessary.

She strode into the common room and saw Vince and Greg loitering by the couches, with a set of hand weights between them. They weren't exercising in earnest, so she decided to join them.

"Millie," Vince's voice rumbled deep in his chest. Greg just looked at her, smiled and went back to working on his biceps.

She nodded at Vince and Greg. Greg never talked much to her. Vince occasionally tried to make conversation but he didn't seem to mind when she didn't exactly answer with words. She felt a strange affinity to them. When compared to Draco, both of them, well, looked like big hulking morons. They weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer but they weren't exactly mentally retarded either. Nothing great was expected from them. She understood that. Her parents had despaired at her lack of beauty, complaining that they would have to _buy_ her a husband when the time came. And when the biggest expectation for a pureblooded witch was to secure herself a pureblooded wizard to marry, it spoke volumes about the kind of expectations her parents held for her.

"What are you and Pansy cooking up?" Vince asked.

Millicent just looked at him. She wasn't necessarily surprised that Vince knew. As part of Draco's guard, they had access to information. On the other hand, she wasn't going to let the cat of the bag either. Pansy would bitch at her if she ruined the surprise. And if there was something Pansy could do, it was bitch.

"Just save me front row seats, alright?" Vince said with a smile on his big face, flicking his pudding bowl cut hair out of his eyes.

Millicent nodded, deciding it was safer if she didn't stay with Greg and Vince at the moment. Not that she was afraid she'd talk, but Pansy could come downstairs and then assume the worst. She'd go to her room and play with her cat for a while.

Millicent got up and climbed the stairs, never noticing the light in Vincent's eyes as he watched her arse climb up.

Gregory leaned over and whispered to Vincent, "You gonna say something to her or what, mate?"

Vincent turned around and glowered fiercely at Gregory, cracking his knuckles.

Gregory shrugged and kept lifting.

* * *

**_And in the Gryffindor Tower…_**

"You reckon that he told the truth?" Ron asked as he moved his knight to take one of Harry's pawns.

Harry grinned. "As much as a Slytherin can tell the truth, I suppose."

"So what are we going to do?" Ron asked, looking at his best friend.

"About?" Harry asked as he pondered his situation. He always managed to himself in these situations. The pieces yelling advice at him weren't helping either. His chess pieces were never too keen on him whenever he played Ron.

"The situation mate. What are we going to do!" Ron said, gesticulating wildly, frightening his bishop.

"Oh," Harry said, only half paying attention to what Ron was actually saying. Well, to be honest, he needed to think. He didn't know how much he trusted Zabini's information. He supposed it to be at least mildly accurate. But he really did want to at least _think _about it before, well, before he did anything.

"Oh? Aren't you worried?" Ron asked, his voice getting louder.

"Honestly Ron, Hermione knows how to take care of herself. And you know we're not going to let that slimy git get close to her," Harry said with a smile. He knew that Ron was unnecessarily worried. Blaise Zabini didn't strike him as Hermione's type. Besides, she was the cleverest witch in her generation. She wasn't going to fall for some slick lines some Slytherin prat fed her. They wouldn't let her.

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione popped in from the portrait hole. Although she looked like herself, she seemed a bit out of breath and her cheeks were flushed. She immediately spotted them and walked very decidedly toward them.

"Hey," Harry said, with a gentle smile.

Hermione smiled brightly at him. But seemed a little odd to Harry, like she was smiling a little too widely.

"Hullo," she said, sitting on the arm of his armchair. She reached over and casually ruffled up his never in place hair. Harry could see Ron's eyes track her movements, and his face screwed up in an internal struggle.

"Hermione, Blaise Zabini fancies you!" Ron blurted out, exhaling a long breath afterwards, like if the information had been too much for him to hold onto.

Harry chuckled to himself. For all of his faults, Ron wore his heart on his sleeve. Honest to the point of tactlessness, blunt to the point of idiodicy, he let you know what he was thinking. No deceit, no pretense, no treachery. Ron was always the Weasley that cracked the first whenever Mrs. Weasley wanted to find out 'whodunit'.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "I know. Everyone in the entire bloody school knows. How I have no clue. People really should take their studies more seriously if they believe it all. I don't know what Lavender and Parvati are thinking but that piece of yarn is **obviously** ludicrous. I mean, Blaise Zabini!" she exclaimed.

One could literally see the tension drain from Ron's body. The play of emotion was obvious on his face and a smile just lit up his face. That was one of Ron's best features. The way his face would light up like a comet streaking through the night sky. It was one of the things that Hermione and Harry loved best about him. The unadulterated joy, the unmitigated pain, the loyalty to whatever emotion he was feeling.

Harry hooked Hermione's hand and brought it around his shoulder so that she was half hugging her. "Don't you worry Hermione, we won't let anything happen to you," Harry said with a grin.

Neither of the boys saw Hermione's eyes as she closed her eyes and smiled as widely as possible.

* * *

**_In his room…_**

For a moment, he just looked at the contrast the creamy ivory letter made against the dark wood of his desk. The green wax seal stood out like an emerald in the middle, the Malfoy crest imprinted deep. He took the letter in his hands and felt it heavy. They always were. Heavy with expectations. Heavy with recriminations. Heavy with hidden meaning. He thought for a minute of just throwing it into the fire in the living room but there would be another letter awaiting him tomorrow. She would know that he hadn't read it.

Draco ripped open the seal and started reading Narcissa's flowing hand.

_Draco,  
I know you have been busy with schoolwork but you could at least spare a few minutes and write to your own Mother.  
I have been well. I'll be going to Paris for the next fortnight. I hope you don't plan on staying at school over the Christmas Break. The house is so empty without you.  
Let me know when your next Quidditch match is and I will come and see you.  
Love,  
Mother_

He wanted to crush the letter in the palm of his hand but he took a deep breath. He greatly loved and despised his mother. With a casual detached arrogance, she still delivered a roundhouse punch of guilt and expectations, all rolled into a few simple sentences.

He had forgotten to write to her. He had never gone so long without at least scribbling a cursive note to his mother. It was the least she deserved, as she had so neatly impressed upon him his first year in school and he had been delinquent with his correspondence. She had made him feel like such a git that he promised he would write every week to let her know how he was doing.

But he hadn't. Not this year. And his mother let him know that he had forgotten his promise. That he had broken his word. She reminded him of his failure. He could read between the lines, read the hurt and resentment and sadness and loneliness and it tore at his gut.

Because now, the last thing he wanted his mother to feel was abandoned. Despite it all, Narcissa loved her husband. It wasn't something he completely understood. Narcissa, more than anyone, understood what a right bastard his father was. She had married the most eligible Pureblooded wizard she could, as expected of her. She had established herself as a society matron and upheld the Malfoy honor, as expected of her She had borne him an heir, as expected of her. She had stood by him through everything, as she had been bred to do. She followed him, regardless of what she really thought. And Lucius had abandoned her. His family and his marriage had been sacrificed in the altar of service to the Dark Lord. And still, she loved him. Draco knew that she had been raised to be a Pureblooded wife and mother, but he wished, as he had often done, that she would at least admit to herself that her husband was a wanker.

_The house is so empty without you. _The phrase haunted him. He knew how forbidding Malfoy Manor could be. He understood why his mother spent as little time there as possible, opting to spend time in a property that she had inherited from her parents as a wedding gift. A little chateau outside Paris, with a garden, that had survived the Revolution. Without Lucius there, for good or for ill, the house felt empty, hollow, devoid of what made it home. Malfoy Manor felt like a ghost house.

He didn't want to go back for Christmas. Didn't want to spend dinner at the table with just his mother, staring at the empty place at the table, making small talk like if that could fill the void. Like his father was simply gone for the evening instead of being locked up in a cell in Azkaban. Like he was coming back.

_Let me know when your next Quidditch match is and I will come and see you._ He just stared at the line, knowing that his mother hated Quidditch. It bored her. She much rather be at an art gala or go to the theater. But she knew that it was important to him. She also knew that everyone else's parents came to see their children and she would never ever abandon him to face the shame that Lucius had placed upon the Malfoy name alone. So last year she would sit, without really talking to anyone, regal and icy in the stands and watch him play. He didn't know if it was just another duty that she fulfilled for the sake of the Malfoy name.

Draco took out a sheet of monogrammed stationary. He stared at the blank parchment before writing.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Originally I had another scene planned but my brain is fried at the moment. I might rearrange the next few scenes into 2 chapters instead. I found out I had to rewrite two scenes in this chapter to make them more plausible.

Yes, we will find out what Blaise told the Lavender and Parvati. Yes, Pansy's prank is coming up. Yes, you will find out what the name for Draco's band is. Stay tuned for the next two chapters.

Did people like the kiss? Drop me a cookie and let me know if it was well done.

* * *


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